


Eddie Kaspbrak, Bill Denbrough, Richie Tozier and Ben Hanscom Writings

by harurisons



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:15:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 36,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21890326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harurisons/pseuds/harurisons
Summary: These basically have Teen and Adult Eddie, Teen and Adult Richie, Teen Bill Denbrough and Adult Ben Hanscom thingies. All originally posted on my Tumblr, of course. Each chapter bears its own warnings. Enjoy :)
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Reader, Bill Denbrough/Reader, Eddie Kaspbrak/Reader, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	1. Fascinating

Eddie always had something to say. Never mind if it was fitting the situation or under the conversation’s subject, but he always had something to say. He talked mostly when he was nervous, and the boy was nervous his whole life.

His nervousness grew during the times when Y/N was sitting next to him on the bus, or at lunch, or in class. She was a new student in Derry High, and a new resident of Derry in general. And she found friends in the outcasts, which in her opinion were much better than the phony popular, rich girls or the gang of bully boys walking around the school like kings.

Eddie didn’t know why his anxiety levels rose when she was around, and he certainly hoped that no one would notice. Not his rosy cheeks, his wide eyes or shaking hands or the fact that he rambled more than usual.

“D-Did you know you can make 50,000 people sick just from one sneeze?” Eddie inquires. Y/N had just sneezed because of a piece of dust flying into her nose while she and Eddie are sitting on the bus. She made sure to contain her sneeze in a tissue and turn away from Eddie. A character trait she had noticed about the boy was that he’s really scared of sicknesses and germs. Understandable.

“Really?” Y/N asks, and her surprise is genuine. Her eyes are wide as she looks at Eddie, eager to hear more, if he has more to say. He freezes when she looks at him, the boy even blushes.

“Yeah, your sneeze can even travel as far as a 100 miles.” Eddie adds to his previous fact, nodding. He’d much rather ask her what movies and books she likes or what she does for fun, or maybe if she’d like to hang out after school. He’d like to know her better, but the only thing he could find out was her health history and situation.

Y/N looks at him, puzzled. “You mean to tell me that if 1539 people sneezed at once, they could get the entire planet sick?”

Eddie shivers, the thought obviously terrifying him. Y/N chuckles. “That's—That’s true, yeah.” He tells her. “What’s also true is—”

“How come you know so much about sneezing? And health, too.” Y/N interrupts him, and it takes Eddie by surprise. His mouth hangs open, and he doesn’t know what to say. Or what would be the right thing to say. Should he tell her the truth about how his mother has a crazy obsession with him being an asthmatic as well as the risk of getting other diseases and it’s the reason he knows so many things about diseases and health? Or should Eddie tell her that it’s a hobby of his to research health facts? Gross, who would have a hobby like that? “Cause I’m pretty sure the year we’re in hasn’t covered tuberculosis or how to stay clear of it. Not yet.”

Eddie only gives her a puzzled look with wide eyes and mouth still agape. He doesn’t know what to say! Ah, but Eddie always has something to say. “Tuberculosis is actually one of the most horrible diseases in the world, and you can get it if you breathe the same air as someone sick with it.” Eddie tells her, quickly-speaking, as always. “Maybe even right now.”

Y/N chuckles and bites her lip. “But really, Eddie.” She presses on the matter. “How do you know—how do you remember that much?” Y/N sits back in the leather bus chair and her head tilts to Eddie. “It’s really fascinating.”

Fascinating? That’s a great word. A great word to be called, in fact. An awkward, thankful smile graces Eddie’s lips and Y/N smiles upon seeing that small feature, relaxing even more against the leather seat. This boy is one of a kind, he seems extraordinary to her. She hasn’t met anyone like Eddie before and she has no idea which part of him fascinates her exactly.

“I—I have asthma.” Eddie says to her then, quietly. “At least my mom—mother says I do. Ever since I was born, she says.” Y/N nods, listening to the boy. He’s finally saying what he wants to say, and feeling a bit proud of himself. Still, a little sad. The relationship he has with his mom is far from ideal.

“I’ve noticed your inhaler.” She tells him, and Eddie’s eyes shine for a second. She’s noticed. “So you know so many things because of your mom? Or because you actually have asthma?” Y/N questions.

“Both.” Eddie replies to her question, nodding. He looks down, away from her pretty eyes, shy all of a sudden. But Y/N sees that, and respects it. She thinks she knows what he wants to say, it’s quite obvious. But if Eddie doesn’t want to say it, he shouldn’t be forced to.

“You should be a doctor when you grow up.” Y/N tells him, rising a little from her seat. Her eyes travel to the sight outside of the bus window.

“A doctor?” Eddie echoes and Y/N nods while she turns back to look at him. “I don’t know if I could ever operate on someone—nope, I couldn’t.” The boy decides and Y/N laughs.

“But I heard you patched up Ben Hanscom! And pretty good, from what I’ve heard.” Y/N cheers him on. “You can be a doctor if you want to.” She tells him softer.

“I don’t know yet.” Eddie tells her honestly. “I’m too young to decide what I wanna do, anyway.” He says. Y/N laughs at this decision. Eddie gets more comfortable in his bus seat, looking forward.

“Do whatever comes to your mind. Be free while you can.” She advises him with a soft smile. Eddie returns it, he takes her words as good advice now.

“Thanks.” He tells her. Eddie feels as though he’s gotta say something more. Maybe… “You wanna go to the pharmacy with me sometimes?” Eddie asks Y/N with audible enthusiasm and courage. It was the very first thing that he could ask her which came to mind.

Y/N smiles wide at him and even giggles, silencing the sound by biting her lip. Eddie finds this little characteristic of hers the most adorable. She shrugs. “Sure thing. Just say when.”


	2. Pharmacy - Eddie Kaspbrak/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie Kaspbrak often sees Reader in Keene's pharmacy, but has never seen her in his high school. He's often wondered who she is and where she comes from, and perhaps an unfortunate event might give him the opportunity to find that out.   
> Warnings: bullying, bruises, medical equipment.

Visits to the Keane’s pharmacy were weekly. Sometimes, if Eddie’s mom freaked out more than usual, then it was more than weekly. Was it an accidental bruise, a cut in his hand from a paper sheet, some sort of bump in his skin, an extra hiccup in his asthma attack, she sent him to the pharmacy or to the hospital right away. But during that one regular visit on Wednesdays, Eddie always saw a girl. Or should he say, the girl.

He had never before seen her in Derry High, so he thought she must be home-schooled. She couldn’t be from another town because she’s always there when he is, besides–who’d come to Derry willingly, anyway? And just for a pharmacy? Didn’t make sense to Eddie.

It’s like they had the same time of arrival and spent the same amount of time in the pharmacy. She was always in line before Eddie, and he always watched her get on her bike with the medicine she took. Most times, she’d physically bump into Eddie when she turned around to leave the cash register. She’d give him a quiet “sorry” and a smile and leave quickly. Perhaps out of her own embarrassment or out of urgency to get back home or wherever it was she goes. Eddie always watched her go, and he was always brought out of this staring by Mr Keene asking him what he’s looking for this week. Is it the regular or something more? A popsicle to stuff your open-gaping mouth with?

She’d always reminded him of Mike. He was home-schooled and also took occasional errand rides to the city on his bike. He came into a store and went right out, the needed essential in his hands, and was already on his way back home. She, perhaps, was living the same life as Mike. Only she wasn’t picking up or leaving meat, vegetables and seasonings— well, maybe she does, Eddie hasn’t seen her in those sort of places—, no, she was always buying medicine.

Who is it for? Is it for herself, is it a friend, a family member, perhaps? Eddie never hears what the pills or liquids are or who they’re for, but she always leaves with a paper bag of great size in his hands. Maybe it’s for her whole family, he wonders.

Today she isn’t at the pharmacy on time. Eddie notices right away - the lack of her bike at the front of the store and her own missing presence in the store. He hums shortly, shrugs, and walks up to the cash register, ready to use his recipe. Maybe he’ll found out where the pharmacy girl is some way.

“Kaspbrak. The usual, huh?” Mr Keene asks, staring down at Eddie through his thick glasses. Eddie nods.

“Yes, please. Do you need to see my recipe?” He asks, but the pharmacist shakes his head.

“I know it by heart, don’t you worry, Edward.” Dr Keene says and disappears behind the glass doors of his pharmacy.

“Nobody calls me… Edward.” Eddie starts to say, but ends his words in a whisper because Mr Keene is out of earsight. Eddie sighs and taps his fingers against the counter, waiting for the him to return. But in the perfect sterile silence this pharmacy always has, he hears chatter and laughter. He furrows his eyebrows and wonders where it could be coming from.

Eddie turns around to look in the entrance door’s direction and spots a few kids stomping their feet to the ground and laughing. They seem a little older than Eddie. What are they doing? Eddie checks to see if Mr Keene is coming soon, but doesn’t see his silhouette behind the glass door, so he heads for the entrance door to see what’s going on. Curiosity would kill him one day.

As he walks closer, he sees that the Wednesday medication girl is standing on the side of the street, her face twisted by crying and shouting at the kids. Something’s wrong. Eddie pulls the door open and steps out onto the street. The kids are stomping on her bike, creating dents and bending the wheels and base of the bike. The girl is crying and protesting for the kids to stop their abuse, but they only laugh and continue the assault.

“Hey, stop it! Stop it!” Eddie shouts at the kids, all his courage gathered up in his throat. The three kids look at him and then glance at each other. They spot Mr Keene coming through the store towards the door, too, and they decide on bolting away. They leave her bike alone, but push the girl herself down to the ground, face-first. She cries, hitting the pavement with her cheeks, hands and knees. 

“Seek trouble elsewhere, you little goblins.” Mr Keene manages to shout before the kids turn a corner. They don’t even look back. Being spotted by an adult is always bad news, and the three little bullies don’t want a shouting or whooping from their elders at home. 

Eddie kneels down to help the girl stand up, noting to himself that his knees will be a little bruised now, too. He offers his hands, and she takes them, rising slowly. She places her palms in Eddie’s and he grips them tight for a secure support system, you could say. Eddie sees her bloody lip and nose and frowns. Her pretty face looks awfully gruesome now. 

“My, Y/N, is that you?” Mr Keene asks from behind Eddie. The girl nods. “Come inside now, I’ll clean you up.” The pharmacist offers. Y/N doesn’t like his offer as much as she likes the pharmacist himself. He’s very weird, and always gives Y/N goosebumps when he smiles at her in his weird way. Being alone with him in a room would be a nightmare.

“I can do it.” Eddie volunteers, reading the discomfort in her face, which is similar to his own. Mr Keene looks at Eddie questioningly, but approves of his volunteering. 

“Right then. I’ll have your medications ready while Eddie helps you.” The pharmacist says and turns around to walk into his store. Eddie looks back at Y/N. 

“Can you walk okay?” He asks. Y/N shrugs, and Eddie still holds her hands when he leads her into the store. He goes with his back first against the door to push it open. Y/N takes staggering steps, her knees bleeding and hurting intensely. The skin of her hands is scraped, Eddie feels its roughness and the few blood drops on his fingertips. Y/N glances over her shoulder at the ruined bike out on the street, and sniffles. 

“My bike…” She whispers. 

“We’ll take care of you first.” Eddie tells her and finally they reach Mr Keene’s office. Eddie sits Y/N down on a stretcher and looks around. Oh, goody. He won’t have to use the bandages or pills in his fanny pack, Mr Keene has all kinds of those, and more. Eddie’s eyes stick on the needles and he gulps. 

The office smells weird, Y/N notices that first of all. And it’s dark in there, so Eddie turns on a lamp that’s next to the stretcher Y/N sits on. She squints, the light being too bright and too close to her face. Eddie turns it away from her and starts looking for the things he needs in order to patch her up. 

Y/N uses that time to examine her bruises. There are nasty ones on both her knees, they’re bleeding rapidly and hurt like hell. The scrapings on her palms sting and her whole head feels dizzy, her nose and lips heavily swollen. And her head hurts. How did the boys manage to injure her so badly with a single push? It must have been a strong one. Plus, the ground isn’t made of cotton candy.

Eddie lays his gathered essentials on the table next to the lamp and turns to the girl. Her eyes anxiously wander over the few essentials. She’s not a fan of medication or visits at the doctor’s office. So what she sees makes her a little scared. “What hurts?” Eddie asks. He does so in order to get to her pain “priorities”.

“Everything.” She whispers and sniffles. Eddie bites the inside of his lip and looks over her fearful form. Her knees are bleeding, but her face is swollen. Eddie hands her an ice pack.

“Hold this to your cheek while I clean your knees, alright?” 

Y/N nods and does as she’s told. The ice freezes her skin for a bit, but then it starts to soothe the swollen parts. She moves the pack over to her nose. Eddie, meanwhile, gets the disinfectant, tissues and bandages from the table and kneels in front of her. He tries his best to keep a gentleman’s mindset, but he’s never helped a girl with her bruises before. He’s never even sat like this in front of a girl. 

“Do you know the guys who did this?” He asks Y/N. Eddie applies the disinfectant to her knees and does his best to gently clean the wounds. She winces and gasps at how the liquid stings her open wound. “Sorry.”

“No, I didn’t know them. But– ah!– they’re probably from your school. I’ve noticed them around here.” She says. Eddie blushes when their eyes make contact. He immediately looks away. Her bruised knees are now clean, and Eddie’s preparing bandages to cover them with.

“Okay, your knees are fine now.” Eddie says after they’re covered well, and he gives her a smile. Y/N nods. “Give me your hand.” He asks and Y/N extends one of her palms to him. “This isn’t so bad. Looks much better than your knees did.” He tells her, and it makes them both laugh. Eddie applies the disinfectant again and Y/N scrunches her face up in discomfort. 

She watches him carefully cleaning her hands one by one, his fingers working delicately in a way to avoid hurting her more. And how his eyes are so focused and how it seems that Eddie could be an actual doctor. “How do you know what… to do?” She asks him. Eddie glances up at her for a second. 

“I don’t know, I…” He starts to say, confident he’s got an answer, but realises he doesn’t have one. “My mom taught me a lot and… and I’ve been to the hospital so many times I guess I’ve just kind of… picked up what the doctors do.” Eddie finalises. “I don’t know.” He shrugs. Y/N nods and smiles at Eddie. He stands up finally and sighs, looking at her. But his eyes now focus on how her lips and nose look. “Do your… Does your face still hurt?” He asks, his frail hands on his hips now. 

“A little.” 

“When you get home, just keep holding ice to it.” Eddie suggests. “Do you need anything, uh–water, advil?” 

“Some advil would be nice.” 

“Head-ache, right?” 

Y/N nods. Eddie gives her thumbs-up and opens one of Mr Keene’s pill cabinets, and picks out a bottle of Advil. He pours water into a paper cup for her and hands Y/N both the cup and an Advil pill. She puts her ice pack down, which Eddie refreshes, and takes them in her hands. She swallows the pill and downs it with the water while Eddie changes the ice pack. 

“Are you two okay?” Mr Keene’s voice comes into the office. Just the mere presence of it makes Y/N tense up and shivers run down her spine. “I’ve got your medicine, miss Y/L/N.” She looks down, avoiding the older man’s eyes. They’re skipping over her arms and legs. Maybe she shouldn’t have worn shorts today. God, she hates his stare on her.

“We’re–I’m fine.” Y/N answers and takes the bag of medicine from Mr Keene.

“What about your bike? Will you get home alright?” The suggestive, sly tone of Mr Keene’s voice makes the silence grow more tense. Y/N feels like something’s crawling right under her skin. 

“Eddie’s gonna get me home safe, don’t worry, Mr Keene.” Y/N is quick to reply while Eddie find his mind empty of response options. But he tries not to react too big at her words, playing his part to convince the creepy Mr Keene and get him off their backs. Does she mean her words? Or is it just a lie made up for the pharmacist?

“Yeah, thank you, Mr Keene. We’ll be right off.” Eddie says. Mr Keene nods torturously slow. Eddie helps Y/N get off the stretcher and holds her behind him when he faces Mr Keene. Eddie gives the man a smile as he continues his watch on the two teenagers, and Eddie takes the time to leave the dark, smelling office of Mr Keene with Y/N holding his hand tight. Her knees are still wary and Mr Keene’s long stare doesn’t help either them, either Y/N’s fear of him. 

Eddie and Y/N walk out of the pharmacy and sigh deeply, almost in sync. They’re relieved to be out of that sterilised, tension-filled place. Eddie carefully takes his hand back from Y/N’s hold, but she doesn’t let that happen. She holds onto him and their eyes lock. 

He’s about to ask her something, but can’t decide what the question should be. She speaks before he can, though. “I do need you to walk me home.” She tells him. Eddie’s a little puzzled.

“O-Oh, okay.” He says and nods, his other hand scratching the back of his neck. “Alright, sure, yeah. Glad to help.” Eddie nods. Y/N looks down at her ruined bike. Eddie follows her eyes and sighs quietly. That’s probably her only bike, like any other kid, and it will cost a fortune to get a new one. “I’ll take it to the nearest, uh, trash can, if you don’t mind.” He proposes. 

“Whatever. It’s ruined, anyway.” 

Eddie decides so, too, and picks up the bike. It will probably stain his clothes and his arms, but it doesn’t matter. The bike isn’t as heavy as Eddie expected and he carries it to the alleyway trash with ease. He throws it out and the bike makes a clattering sound when it lands,a nd the sound does make Eddie sad. He imagines what it’d be like if he lost his own bike this way, and he’d feel very devastated.

He walks back to where Y/N is leaning against the wall of the pharmacy, resting her legs, you could say. Eddie holds out his hand to her. “So, uh, where do you live?” 

Y/N chuckles at his question and steps away from the wall. She takes Eddie’s hand and leads him down the street, the other way, the way that leads towards the outskirts of town. “I don’t live far. You know the part of town where the christians and mormons live?” Eddie nods, and watches Y/N curiously. “Well, I live there.”

“I’ve never been there, to be honest. Sometimes I ride through on my bike, but that’s it.” Eddie responds. 

“Don’t worry. I know it’s not a pleasant neighbourhood.” 

“I’ve seen worse.” Eddie promises her. Now Y/N gives him a curious glance, wondering what this wonderful boy has seen that could be worse than the drunk hobos and rapists on her street. “I, uh, I see you at the pharmacy all the time.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed you, too. You’re always in queue right after me.” 

“You always beat me to it.” Eddie says and they both laugh. “What are the meds for?”

“Uh…” Y/N hesitates to answer.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Eddie clarifies. Y/N shakes her head. 

“They’re for my dad.” She says. “He’s really sick.”

Eddie falls silent. There’s questions he wants to ask, but knows that she won’t like to answer. What is the sickness? How long has he got left? How long has he been sick? Is he gonna get better? 

“Sorry, didn’t want to bring that up.” He says to her, looking at her to see how she’s feeling. She shakes her head again. 

“It’s okay, Eddie.” She says. The way she says his name makes him swoon instantly, and it almost happens physically. “I don’t really have… a friend I can talk to about this. In fact, no one knows about my dad except me and my sister.” 

“Oh. Well, you have your sister, then.”

“Yeah, but she’s my sister, you know, not a friend.” 

“Oh, I get it, yeah. But uh… Which school do you go to?”

“I’m uh, I’m home-schooled,I think that’s what it’s called.” So Eddie was right about that. “Both me and my sister. A lady comes to our house to teach us.”

“One of my friends is home-schooled, too.” Eddie says. “Mike Hanlon. Do you know him? He lives by the farms. His dad owns one of them.”

“I bet I’ve seen him around.” Y/N shrugs. “Oh, here we are.”

If you’ve ever walked around a neighbourhood that is known as “the poor people’s neighbourhood”, you’ll know how strange it would be to see a nice-looking house in the middle of it. Well, that’s Y/N’s house. It doesn’t look like a mansion or too nice, but it sure stands out. It’s cleaner and has a nice garden, plus, an actual yard with a fence. It looks secure and Y/N jingles keys out of her short pocket to unlock the entrance fence. 

“You have a very nice house.” Eddie says. “Have you ever been robbed?” This question pops out of him without filter. Y/N furrows her eyebrows at him, but chuckles.

“No, we thankfully haven’t.”

“That’s a miracle in this part of town.” 

“That’s true. I’m surprised myself, but I’m also thankful. Don’t know to who, though.” Y/N sighs and looks at her own house, but then looks back at Eddie. “Thank you so much for all you’ve done today, Eddie.” She says, taking his hands between her. “You’re an angel. How can I repay you for everything?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I’m glad to help. Don’t worry about it, I don’t really need anything back. If I can help in any way with your father, maybe, I’d be happy to.” He admits. The two exchange warm smiles.

“I’ll find a way to repay you.” Y/N says, narrowing her eyes at Eddie and nodding. “And I guess I’ll see you at the pharmacy. I bet I’m gonna be behind you now that I don’t have a bike.”

They both laugh. “You will. I can always wait so we’d be back on our regular schedule.” He proposes. Y/N laughs, her swollen lip stretching wide along her face. 

“That’d be nice.” She says. “It’d be nice to keep seeing you.” She admits and steps closer to Eddie, giving his cheek a soft kiss. Y/N then steps back and smiles widely at the boy with red cheeks and awkward posture, flustered now because of her gesture. “See you around.” Y/N says and pushes the gate open and goes into her yard. 

Eddie regains himself and nods at Y/N, giving her a smile, too, and he gives her a wave when she looks back at him. He watches her unlocking the house and going inside, partly for safety reasons. Partly because she’s taken his breath away, and he has to pull out his aspirator and use it to breathe again. This pharmacy girl holds a bigger story than you could think. Eddie grins. He does hope to see her again.


	3. Knight In Shining Armor - Eddie Kaspbrak/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader is the shortest girl of her age and others find joy in pointing it out. In those others, however, is Eddie Kaspbrak, nor are his friends.

“Midget.”

“You belong in Kindergarten, not school!”

“Did your mom sleep with a dwarf?”

Y/N takes a deep breath and quietly exhales. Her hands grip the backpack’s straps tighter, her worries growing into her fingers. Ignore them, they don’t matter, she tells herself quietly. Their words aren’t true.

She feels like there’s a bubble around to her. A bubble that fills up with all the horrible things people say about her and her height. It fills up each and every break between her classes, and it fills up more and more each passing day.

There’s nothing wrong with the girl, she’s only shorter than some average girl or boy her age. There are many bad sides to it, but there are also privileges. Those she has trouble remembering and reminding herself.

The bubble still grows when she walks into her Bio class and searches for a place to sit. Y/N’s eyes hurry over the students who already have sitting partners, and she panics. She doesn’t notice her chest heaving up and down with her big, panicked breaths. She’ll be sitting alone!

“You can sit with me.” A voice next to her says. The bubble has burst. Y/N turns her head up, naturally, and finds a gorgeous boy with chocolate eyes and chocolate hair looking at her. His eyes are wide, and he seems a little nervous, but he smiles at her. It comforts Y/N. “If you want. There’s still an empty desk, see?” He points to an actual empty desk at the very end of the classroom and Y/N raises her eyebrows.

“Thanks. Don’t mind if I do.” She tells him and walks to the back of the room, still gripping her bag straps, and the boy follows her steps.

Eddie’s quite surprised. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her in school before. He surely hasn’t met anyone his age who is shorter than him, and let alone this gorgeous. Two new wins for him! The boy smiles to himself, but looks down as he does. Plus, he actually initiated a conversation with her. Another win.

Y/N likes to watch the scenery outside, and so she gladly takes the window seat at the desk. Eddie’s never been much of an observer or scenery watcher himself, so he doesn’t mind the row-seat. When they both sit down, they notice the teacher hasn’t come yet, so they relax a little and realise they have a bit of time until she does.

“I…” Y/N starts to say. Her arms are crossed on the desk in front her, and her shy eyes face the dirty surface of the desk. Eddie looks to her when she starts talking, “I usually sit in the front. But someone seems to have taken my place today.” She admits, and looks at Eddie, offering him a small smile, in hopes of understanding.

So she does go to this school. How come he hasn’t seen her before? “That’s rude of them.” Eddie states, and Y/N nods, agreeing. “But you can sit with me, always. No one desires this seat much.”

Y/N smiles, liking the idea of sitting next to this gorgeous boy for the rest of her school career.

“What’s your name?” He asks her. His eyes are curious and wide, still. Maybe his orbs are just bigger than others’ she’s seen.

“Y/N.” She answers, and a blush creeps onto her cheeks. Plainly talking to him makes her feel excited. “What’s yours?”

“I’m Eddie. Eddie Kaspbrak.” He says. “Have you always been in this school?” He then asks, wanting to clarify the question in his mind. Y/N laughs at his question, and Eddie’s smile drops. He was stupid, asking that, he thinks now.

“Correct.” She nods. “I’m not a character that… stands out. In this school, it’d be dangerous to.” She admits, and breathes a chuckle. Eddie nods, and is relieved at her answer. He can agree with her statement about standing out.

“Hey, um, me and my friends are going to the Barrens after school,” Eddie starts after a while, ending the strange silence that has fallen between them both. Y/N looks at him, “maybe you wanna come with us?” She’s surprised he’s asked her to join. No one else has before. “I-If you want to, of course.”

Last day of school. Maybe she could make some new friends for the summer? And maybe even longer than summer. She’s very shy, and keeps to herself, but she can’t turn down an invitation from this cute Eddie Kaspbrak.

“O-Okay.” She tells him. “Are your friends… nice people?” Y/N asks, and her voice grows quiet. She’s afraid to ask, and cautious of his possible answer.

Eddie smiles wide upon thinking about his friends. “They’re the best people. My best friends.” He tells her. He knows what she really means with her question. Are your friends going to make fun of me? Laugh at me? “I’ll tell them to be nicer around you.” He adds. It makes Y/N laugh, and gosh, Eddie loves hearing that.

The teacher walks in then, and Y/N can only give Eddie a heart-warming smile now. The Bio teacher’s quite strict, and no one must talk while she speaks, and Y/N respects that. Eddie smiles back and opens his Bio text book, ready to write down anything that might be important.

For the last Biology class of the year, the teacher made the children work intensely. But they wouldn’t expect anything else from a teacher like her. Seemed like she’s a workaholic robot that doesn’t know that things like fun or rest exist. But Biology was the last class of the day for Y/N and Eddie, and the last class of the school year of ‘89. They didn’t mind the hard work so much when they’re looking forward to what comes after.

“That didn’t drag on as much as I thought is would.” Eddie states, relieved, and Y/N nods. They’re stuffing their textbooks into their backpacks, and are the last to leave the cabinet.

“Thank God.” She says and Eddie chuckles. They push their chairs close to the desks and leave the Biology classroom, bidding the teacher good-bye on their way out.

“Look! Kaspbrak’s found a new dwarf friend!” The screeching voice of Patrick Hockstetter comes loud through the hallway as Y/N and Eddie pass him and his classmates. They all laugh and snicker at the little kids, and Eddie sees out of the corner of his eye that Y/N’s head tips downwards.

Her hand is right in his reach, and he takes it, knotting their fingers together. It makes Y/N freeze up for a moment, but she keeps on walking. When they’ve turned a corner in the hallway, she looks at Eddie. He’s blushing a deep red, just like her, and they both have awkward smiles on their faces.

“I honestly… I honestly hate Patrick. And his friends.” Eddie says to her, and he leans closer so she’d hear him better over the loud chatter and laughter of the kids around them. Y/N only nods subtly. The older boy’s words hurt her heart and her confidence.

Meeting Eddie’s friends wasn’t only a bit surprising. Y/N had met Bill and Richie in her other classes, knew their names and little about them in general. She’d always noticed the colorful character of Richie in hallways, in the lunch hall and in P.E., too. Stanley she had seen, too, but he was a year under her, so she only saw him in hallways and the lunch hall. She didn’t know much about him, but was happy to get to know him, if he’ll let her have the chance.

But getting to know Eddie was her most important goal. He’s a boy who is kind to her, talkative and doesn’t mind her company. Plus, he’s very pretty. Especially when he smiles. Y/N had seen him around school, but never dared to talk to him, and never knew his name. Now she does, and she’s even spending the last day of school with him.

Richie was a very talkative and expressive boy. Bill was quieter, and he had a stutter. Stanley was most quiet of the four, and for a moment Y/N thought it was because of her and maybe he doesn’t like her company? But later in the day, it turned out he’s quite as kind as Eddie.

Eddie noticed Y/N didn’t have a bike brought to school, she had walked to school since it was a nice, sunny day. He offered her to get on his bike, and so she did. She was nervous, she had to hold onto the boy’s tummy so she wouldn’t fall off his funky bike. Oh, but Eddie was nervous, too. Never had a girl even touched him. They all found him weird. Well, actually, Y/N’s the only girl he’d ever let touch him, so maybe the fault isn’t all in the girls from school.

Stanley was telling Y/N which branch was poison ivy, and which wasn’t, and it picked her interest. She never wanted to touch poison ivy in her life, her sister had told her a kid’s arm once fell off because he grasped a poison ivy branch. And the story scared her. It may not be true, but she didn’t want to test it out herself.

The boys were apparently looking for Bill’s lost little brother George. Why would he be wondering down in the sewers, Y/N could only guess. And, based on what Richie and Eddie were babbling about, he had it all figured out, Bill even had a map of the drainage system. Impressive, Y/N had thought.

She isn’t very keen on going inside the actual Barrens, she’s scared. Y/N is scared of the dark and of whatever could be in the dirty water of the sewers. She had kept to herself all through their journey to the Barrens, but her fear and anxiety appeared when they reached the huge pipe, or whatever you could call it. Entrance to Hell seemed fitting in Y/N’s mind.

“Y/N, ya wanna join?” Richie asks from inside the Barrens. Y/N quickly shakes her head as a no.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” Eddie tells Y/N. She’s standing closest to him, but she sees Stanley nodding in the corner of her eye.

“It’s no-not all plea-pleasant here.” Bill tells her, but it does no soothing to the girl. She almost whimpers, but she doesn’t. Y/N shivers slightly and Eddie reaches out to hold her shaking hands again. She looks at him, and steps even closer. She takes her hand away and instead links it around his elbow and lets Eddie hold her hand like that.

Stanley smiles at the two. Y/N’s head is resting on Eddie’s shoulder, her big eyes trying hard not to look inside the Barrens, but at her and Eddie’s hand intertwined instead. It calms her down a little. Bill shares the smile with Stanley, and Richie smiles, too. But his smile is mischievous and not all glad. Still, the girl seems nice and he’s not bothered by her.

What really scared Y/N was someone falling into the river water. She shrieked and gripped Eddie’s hand tighter than before, and he held her shoulders. For emotional and physical support. She could’ve fallen into the water herself, if it wasn’t for Eddie. And she’d hate to be between the water and the rocks. Eddie’s her knight in shining armor. All he needed was a white horse and a crown. But Y/N was sure she could make a flower crown to suffice.

Eddie knew what the new kid, Ben, needed. He was injured, badly. There was blood coming from his stomach, and it made Y/N horrified. She had never seen something like that before, and that to happen to a kid… It made her wonder what more secrets her hometown holds.

She held onto Eddie tighter when they rode back into the city. He could tell the girl was scared, but also glad that she had someone to hold onto. And he’d looked at her surely. Eddie had looked at her with a sure thought in his eyes that he would be there for her, and would protect her if she ever needed it.

When Y/N saw that look, given to her as Eddie still rode his bike and had looked over his shoulder at her, she wasn’t sure what it was at first. But she knew the look was good. And she’d find out soon that the boy with chocolate hair and chocolate eyes named Eddie Kaspbrak is truly her courageous prince dressed in shorts and a white button-up riding a black bike. And she smiled at the thought.


	4. White Dresses With Blue Satin Sashes - Eddie Kaspbrak/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader has her own unique style which others see as a reason to make fun of her. Eddie Kaspbrak does not agree with this foul behavior.  
> Warnings: bullying, crying, comfort, angst to fluff.

She decided to wear a pink dress. It isn’t pink in all its length, the skirt part is white, and with incredible pretty lace. The dress looks like a wedding dress, or one that the flower girls would wear. It’s real pretty, and both Y/N and her mom love it.

The dress hugs her form tightly around the waist. It’s a fifties-style one, with the skirt incredibly long and wide. When she turns, the skirt floats around her waist in waves. The sight imitates wings on a butterfly. And she loves to see it, take away the petticoat, that doesn’t look too pretty. It does give her dress more volume, though.

Y/N lets her hair flow down her shoulders. She only put her bow-pin right behind her ear, pushing strands of hair behind it, too. Her hair on the right usually fell into her eyes and over her school papers, so it’s not only for beauty reasons the pin’s there. The pin is white, and it goes well with her hair. She doesn’t yet have a pink bow-pin, but she intends to buy it with her birthday money. The only things she saves her money for are pretty things. The prettiest, to be exact.

Her pink, glittery shoes makes a clicketty-sound when she walks through a hallway in school. The same one a teacher’s shoes make, only lighter and more frequent, since her steps are much smaller than any teachers’.

Her current class is History. Y/N loves History, and she’s good at it. But she doesn’t show it, she rarely speaks up in class unless she’s asked to by the teacher or should present a project in front of the class. It’s not that Y/N is afraid to talk in front of many people, she simply doesn’t do it. And, someone always manages to speak up before her. It might not always be the correct answer that one of the popular girls provides, but it’s still a break into the tension-filled silence every student dreads.

“Can anyone tell me the year dolls first appeared in the windows of toy stores?” Mis Fortin asks her class, a bright smile on her face. Today’s History class theme is toys, and when they started their manufacture here, in Derry.

Y/N sits in the very middle of her classroom. And she stands out from the rest of them, at least in the eyes of her classmates or the eyes of someone who’d pass by the classroom. It’s a fact that she stands out, it’s nothing bad. There’s no one like her in her class or the school, no one else dresses like she does. Sometimes it gets her down, but mostly the fact gives her confidence in her uniqueness.

Kids sit all around her, of course, and she knows all their names. There’s Betty, there’s Eddie, Ben, there’s Henry Bowers (the most horrible of all), Sophia, Louise and everyone else. They’re thirty in this classroom at once, and she’ll be tired if she names them all now, so she doesn’t. Mis Fortin says all their names at some point, after all, to check attendance.

Y/N’s actually surprised to see Henry Bowers attending school. And she’s sick of seeing him here. For how much longer is he going to stay behind? He’s already been taken back for two years, and the boy doesn’t seem to learn. He just keeps failing classes and exams. Y/N knows the boy hasn’t got a care for school, but he could make an effort for his actual academic and work-wise future.

She doesn’t pay very much attention to the boy named Eddie, Eddie Kaspbrak, but she’s got nothing against him. Y/N doesn’t talk to anyone, really, you could say she doesn’t have friends in school. But she didn’t see it that way. Her mom was her best friend, what more could she need?

She has noticed the way the boy smiles, or when he laughs sometimes when the class doess, at a picture or at something the teacher has said. He’s very cute, she must admit, one of the cutest her school has got. He’s friends with Stuttering Bill, she also knows that. Oh, but that’s impolite! True, still. Bill’s also someone who doesn’t speak unless it’s very necessary to.

Y/N has noticed they have a group of friends that they always hang around with. And she is a bit jealous of them. She thinks having a lot of friends is a wonderful thing which she herself was too afraid to ever gain. Too many people for her, maybe? Too many people at once? Closer, we’re getting closer. She’s quite the introvert.

“Maybe you should ask Y/N.” Sophia replies to the teacher’s question, giving the mentioned girl an ill look over her shoulder. “She definitely looks like a doll.” She adds.

The comment makes almost everyone giggle, and it hurts Y/N. The comment and the laughter, and she only looks down. Her cheeks have grown hot with the color red and she hopes no one can see it. Sadly, she’s wrong.

“Yeah, teach,” Henry Bowers chirps on, “maybe we should put Y/N in a shop window.”

Most of the class laughs again, louder this time, and Y/N turns more into herself, gripping the edges of her desk. Eddie and Bill Denbrough aren’t laughing at her. They watch the pour girl being terrorised by their classmates, and see that she’s holding in tears already. She’s an emotional girl, Eddie decides, and she’s still so pretty… Too pretty to be bullied like this. Well, he might be wrong with that statement, but–

“Grow up.” A nasty whisper in Y/N’s direction comes from Sophia, her voice hissing, like a snake’s would be.

“You look like a child.” The boy sitting behind her whispers in her ear after leaning over his desk.

“How much would they even sell her for?” A boy named Greg calls out, feeling a sudden surge of courage and the promise of fame. His classmates keep laughing at the girl, and they even point at her and call her names. Y/N’s eyes widen and she desperately tries to keep her tears in.

Mis Fortin has had enough of the children’s picking on Y/N, and she frowns. “Class, quiet! Quiet!” She yells, and that’s what gets all the kids to shut up. “You can’t be mean to Y/N. She’s only different, and that’s not a thing to make fun of.” Mis Fortin scolds her pupils.

“No, no, miss, we’re only giving her options for money making.” Bowers speaks up again and makes the class laugh, again. Y/N stands up suddenly, her dress moving around her while she puts her notebook and pencil case in her shoulder bag, and walks out of the class.

“No, Y/N, come back here now!” Mis Fortin tries to call after her, but it doesn’t work on the girl. She’s already going out of the door. Tears stain her pretty soft cheeks, and she still hears the kids laughing even when she’s walking down the hallway. She’s heading for this floor’s girls’ bathroom.

But not everyone was laughing. Not Eddie, not Bill and their friend Ben. They didn’t find the picking on her funny, it’s plain mean. So after contemplation to himself, Eddie decides to do something brave.

The boy stands up from his seat and draws all eyes to himself. His own eyes are wide, and he’s a bit scared to be looked at by everyone and scared to speak in front of everyone, also having a history of being bullied. Especially by Bowers and his friends, but everyone, really.

“What do you want to say, Eddie Kaspbrak?”

The teacher’s eyes are narrowed, and a little angry, and they make Eddie’s eyes widen. “I will fetch Y/N, Mis Fortin.” The boy says. Mis Fortin approves of his mission with a nod of her head, and Eddie heads for the classroom door, giving his friends a last look of determination before he exits. It takes a bigger deal of strength for the boy to push the door open, his friends usually do it. But Eddie’s stronger than he thinks.

Once Eddie steps out into the hallway, he looks down both ways. He catches a glimpse of Y/N’s white and pink lace dress in the longer end of the hallway. Eddie makes wide eyes and puffs, convincing himself to go after her. But she’s going into the girl’s bathroom. Well, it must be cleaner than the boys’ bathroom. Just make sure not to touch anything, Eddie.

Eddie walks towards the girls’ bathroom as fast as he can, a determined look still on his features and in his wide chocolate eyes. He finally reaches the bathroom and looks at the door. There’s a symbol of feminine features and the word “girls” written on it, both in blue. Eddie takes a breath before pushing the door open, and he suddenly hears crying and wheezing. That must be Y/N. Eddie extends his arm towards the door and pushes it.

And there Y/N is, still looking ever so beautiful, but she’s crying. She’s sitting on the windowsill, the fluffiness of her dress gives her a pillow underneath. Her head is in her hands, and her hair is falling in long waves around her hands. Eddie frowns sadly, and his lip curls into a pout. Breaks his heart to see the most beautiful girl, a passionate girl, in shambles. All because of her short-minded classmates and their mean comments.

Eddie starts walking over to her, and the sound of his steps frightens her. Y/N gasps and draws her head up, her eyes falling on the boy. It’s only Eddie, a part of her brain thinks. Oh, but it’s Eddie.

“Please go away, I'm… I'm…” But she can’t find a reason to say no to this boy’s company. Eddie stands half a foot from her for a second, eyebrows drawn together in thought.

“I won’t, not until you’re not sad anymore.” He righteously states and straightens his back. Eddie looks right into her crying eyes. They still make him sad, but his shoulders don’t fall down, he stands his ground.

Y/N just looks at him for a few seconds, she’s searching his eyes for something… Something most students would do, any trace of it. But there is none. Eddie’s eyes show pure care. And perhaps the next tears she sheds are because of that only, the thought that he’s here from the good of his heart and wants to make her feel better.

She sniffles and her hands close together around her knees. But Eddie steps closer and puts his own hand over hers, and it makes her look at him again. He offers a little smile, a gentle one. Y/N tries to smile, and she can’t. Her lips only quiver slightly upward, no trace of a smile there. But that’s okay, Eddie thinks. He noticed her attempt.

His hand warms her hands.

“What they say… It isn’t true.” Eddie tells her. His voice is so quiet and soft it’s almost a whisper.

“Which parts do you mean?” Y/N asks. Her own voice is trembling, bound to break if she so much as speaks a little louder. She tries not to seem weak in front of Eddie, but there’s no need to. She’s not weak. Not in his eyes. She’s emotional, and that’s not a bad trait to have.

Eddie shakes his head. “Every part. And none of it is true.” He says. “I… I mean that. Listen,” he urges, “they’re only mean because they… They’re jealous because you dare to stand out.” Eddie nods along with his words, proving their accuracy.

Maybe a smile does show on Y/N’s face after all. She doesn’t look so sad now. Eddie’s words have lifted her up, at least a little. “Why do you say that?” She asks, and Eddie hears hope in her question. It means she’s not so sceptical of what he says.

Eddie’s a little dumb-founded, though, because of her question. What could he tell her? Or, how much could he tell her of everything that he wants to say? He takes another breath.

“Because I know you love the way you dress, and you shouldn’t be made fun of, just for that.” Eddie tells her. “And, well, I like the way you dress. I mean, not that I want to dress like that, I don’t think dresses would be very appropriate for me. Well, what do I know? It’s only what my mom…”

Y/N giggles. She actually giggles. And still wants to hear more from Eddie, she’s still looking at him. She feels like the boy is too nervous to speak slower. Eddie’s eyes shyly look up to meet hers and he smiles. He’s made her laugh.

“Anyway,” Eddie takes another breath and Y/N seals her lips, though there is a smile on them still as she listens, “no one loves something as much as you do. And I think that’s really cool.” The boy smiles wider. His hand, unbeknownst to him, squeezes Y/N’s hands.

“Thanks, Eddie.” She thanks him. Her voice is sweet and small, and not at all sad. He nods to himself, which is a little trophy for himself for his bravery. She rests the back of her head against the wall and sighs deeply.

“And I think you're… very pretty.” Eddie suddenly confesses, and draws Y/N’s eyes back to him. “You’re very beautiful.” He says in a hushed, breathy voice. Eddie even laughs a quiet chuckle after speaking. He feels very shy and looks down.

“Really?” Y/N almost squeals.

“Yeah.” Eddie replies once he’s looked back at her. Y/N cracks a wide smile, and Eddie blushes. “Your dresses just make you even more prettier.”

Y/N laughs. That’s so wonderful! These are the best things she’s ever heard in her life from someone who’s not her mom. And these compliments warm her heart to its deepest crevices. She presses her lips tightly together in a smile and looks at Eddie again.

“I wanna say something nice, too, but my head is empty right now.” She tells Eddie. The boy shakes his head. She doesn’t need to say anything, really. Just being able to tell her this makes him glad. “I can’t think of anything to say.” She giggles.

“That’s alright.” Eddie says. “I told the teacher I’d bring you back to class.” He says. “But if you don’t want to go, don’t.”

Y/N nods. “It’s my last class, anyway.” She shrugs. Lucky her, Eddie thinks. “What is it–” Y/N checks the clock on the wall, “twenty minutes left? I think I’ll be fine.” She says. Eddie nods, and there’s silence in the girls’ bathroom. “You’re very kind, Eddie.” Y/N breaks the silence and returns the compliment. “And pretty.”

That makes Eddie laugh, looking down, with that he tries to hide his blush. “Thanks.” He whispers and cautiously looks up at Y/N. “Will you be okay?” He asks.

“I think so.”

“You know, if they ever get you down,” Eddie starts, “you can talk to me. They pick on me, too.”

Y/N nods. “What about… What if we’re friends?” She asks and eyes Eddie’s hand still on hers.

“Friends?” He echoes, and she nods again. “Of course! Yeah, friends.” Eddie nods now and smiles wide.

Eddie decided to stay with Y/N until History ended, but they both had to rush out of the bathroom when the bell rang. Not only because Eddie left his bag in the history classroom or because he had another class to get to. But because the popular girls seeing him in the girls’ bathroom would start so many false rumors that Eddie should move to another state to avoid the embarrassment, he felt.

Truth be told, he wouldn’t care for any rumors now that him and Y/N are friends. Only the thought of her and the dresses and lace details and pretty tops she wears makes the boy happy. Being friends with her was what he’s always wanted.

And friends they became. Eddie would have to wait a while until he realised he’s really deeply in love with Y/N, and it would also take a while until he told her that. But by that time, she had completely fallen head over heels for the kind, brave boy that lifted her spirits in a girls’ bathroom.


	5. Merry Little Christmas - Eddie Kaspbrak/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader and Eddie have a soft Christmas Eve together.  
> Warnings: Christmas if you're a Grinch.

Have yourself a Merry little Christmas,

Let your heart be light…

Those words do make your heart be light, cause they’re true. You are having yourself a Merry little Christmas, and it’s the most perfect Christmas you could imagine. Sinatra’s voice on vinyl only finalises the Christmas fairy-tale you’re having inside your house. And Eddie, of course. But where is he?

“Hey, baby, where are you?”

You’re hesitant to ask this question, or bother him at all, taking he’s told you about his childhood and its carried-out trauma. Questions like this tend to make him anxious. Though you’re confused as to why he hasn’t yet joined you on the sofa. He’s been in the kitchen for about ten minutes already, or so says the clock above the TV you’ve been glancing at.

“Hold on!” Comes Eddie’s voice from the kitchen at last, and you smile, letting your head fall back against the sofa’s cushion. Sounds like Eddie’s busy with something, so that must be why he’s been gone for so long.

Moments later, your husband-to-be, in his glorious Christmas attire—which means a red and green sweater and joggers—, comes finally into the living room where you lay. Handles of two large-sized cups are pressed between his slender fingers and Eddie smiles before he places them down on the coffee table.

“Ooh!” An excited squeal leaves your mouth once you see the rainbow-sprinkled whipped cream on-top of the hot drink in the mugs and you look at Eddie with bright eyes. That only makes him smile wider.

“I made us hot cocoa.” Eddie announces before he slithers next to you under your thick woven blanket. You let him, lifting the blanket up so he can cozy up easily. Eddie practically melts over your form, his arms stretching around you and clinging to you. He feels the most relaxed he’s felt in his life. You press a kiss to his head with a smile that he feels stretching your lips against his skin.

“That’s sweet of you, hon.” You tell him and then reach with your free arm—that isn’t slinked together with Eddie’s in a lazy knot—for the TV remote. You turn on the TV and switch through channels until you find the right one, the one where Home Alone is on in less than five minutes. Someone may think it’s meant for child and teenage audiences, but you and Eddie could prove them wrong - it’s funny and cute and Christmasy, of course, to any age group.

“It’s Christmas.” Eddie says, his shoulders shrugging for a second. You turn your eyes from the TV to face Eddie and this makes you lay down in the sofa’s pillows with your head and back, and Eddie fall slightly on top of you. Both are too cozy and too in love to care about it, and have big smiles on your faces. Eddie uses this chance to tenderly kiss your lips.

They taste of peppermint and gingerbreads. A strange mix, one Eddie thought would never collaborate well. But it’s Christmas. You taste exactly like Christmas. Eddie himself, on the other hand, gives you insight of what the hot cocoas taste like - there’s still traces of it on his lips. And they make you giggle. He couldn’t resist getting a taste of what he was making.

The giggle breaks you two apart and Eddie’s happy eyes search yours. Your eyes are practically shut because of your laughter. “What is it?” He asks you and adjusts the hairs that have fallen in the frame of your face. A habit of his he cannot quit even with the many shared years that have come and gone.

“Nothing.” You shake your head, still smiling and giggling here and there, though. You reach your hand to touch his cheek and caress it softly with your thumb. His skin seems to be as soft as a young boy’s. Perhaps little Eddie is still as strong in him as he was in the right age for it. Though, having a child inside you when you’re older doesn’t hurt at all. You gaze into his deep brown eyes. “I just love you.” You say quieter.

Eddie’s right cheek raises a little under your hand when that corner of his lips twitches upwards to create a wider smile. “I love you, too, sweetheart.” He tells you truthfully, his eyes strongly looking into yours. “Merry Christmas.” He wishes you with a kiss to both your cheeks.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” You tell him back, and your hands roam into his gelled back brown-almost-black hair and you make the strands fall out of place. Eddie gives you a look of joking disappointment, but not surprise, as he knows you love it when his hair is not all proper and that the actual length of his brown strands shows and isn’t pushed back. “Still love me?” You tease with a smirk on your face, crossing your arms over your chest and watching strand after strand fall over Eddie’s forehead.

He glances at them and sighs, then looks back at you. “Course I do. Nothing’s gonna change my love for you,” he says and then moves around so you’d both be sitting on the sofa, though still intensely connected to one another.

“You oughta know by now how much I love you…” You respond in the song’s melody and you make Eddie laugh. He hadn’t realised he’d spoken lyrics of a popular song in his childhood years.

“The world may change my whole life through, but…” He continues.

“Nothing’s gonna change my love for you.” You both sing in unison and chuckle. You glance at the TV screen and gasp. “It’s starting, it’s starting!” You announce, recognising the start of Home Alone starting to play. You grab your hot cocoa mug and lean back against the sofa, into Eddie’s side.

He puts his arm back around your shoulders to pull you closer, his other hand busy with holding his own hot cocoa. Eddie’s head eventually falls on top of yours as you watch the movie, both your mugs are drunk empty and dry and you both shake with laughter occasionally when the real fun of the movie begins.

It’s Christmas.


	6. Moments - Reddie/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's her first Christmas without her father, but she's got his friends supporting her now.  
> Warnings: angst to fluff, Christmas if you're a Grinch.

Loneliness was all she had known all her life. No wonder getting used to live with two people in a household instead of one took some time. She had stuck to being alone at home, having only one person at home, friends never coming over and no one else really visiting. Her only friend was your father. The reason she was so used to being alone was his mostly over-working character and job expectancy to always be available and ready to leave.

Don’t think it makes their relationship bad, that’s not true at all. At one point, she decided that she and her father Stanley had the best father-daughter relationship in the books. Only thing missing in both their lives was her mother. She never knew her, and never had any idea who she was. That seemed to be the only minus in their lives, until a particular May evening in her seventeenth year of life. 

She doesn’t like to think about that night even though it haunts her dreams and, in truth, her everyday thoughts. Each time she loses her focus on what she’s doing, she’s immediately reminded of the night’s events. And images… But again, she does not like to think about them willingly.

Two people looking after her now is a very unfamiliar thing and living condition to get used to. But at some point her senses gave in and it became easier. Not living without her father, but having more than one person at home. Plus, a dog. That was a friendly addition.

These two people, if they tell the truth, were her father’s childhood best friends. And she does trust them, she began to halfway through them telling the story of their life-defining childhood together. She knew her father well and their stories about him sounded very much like Stanley would have been as a teenager. And really, she had nowhere else to go after her father’s sudden death.

Y/N’s first Christmas without her dad has arrived, half a year after the tragic incident and half a year after Richie and Eddie had taken her under their wing had passed. The Tozier-Kaspbrak-Uris household has been a bit late with getting their Christmas tree, meaning they purchased and got it home on Christmas Eve day. Presents have already been prepared, the tree has been brought into the living room, only the decorations now are left. 

Eddie declares his Christmas playlist as the best festive song collection, and proudly plays it through the house’s sound system. “Mine is the best, Rich, you can’t argue with that.” He tells his partner, glancing over to him momentarily. Richie only raises his eyebrows with an additional head shake.

“I actually can. Mine is the better than yours, which makes it the best.” Richie says. His eyes don’t leave the decoration packet he’s trying to open with his bare hands while he replies to Eddie, but he’s in no luck. The packet is sealed tight with glue and ironing. 

“Yours is full of slutty Christmas songs.” Eddie says, his face twisting in disgust and disagreement. He also shakes his head, as Richie did before. Y/N grins to herself at their conversation, her own eyes looking upon the hanging decoration she just put up. It’s a transparent ball with a silver reindeer inside it, the animal has raised the top half of its body in a sort of salutation. It makes her smile, the decoration, silly a thought about how the reindeer seems so lively in his frozen, plastic stance.

“Language, Kaspbrak. There are minors around.” Richie comments, and it makes all three of them chuckle to themselves, Y/N having the most laughs. 

“More mature than you both.” Y/N says to Richie. The man agrees with a nod while Eddie has a laugh and afterwards presses a kiss to Richie’s cheek. He may not show it, but the gesture makes Richie blush and actually cherish his own existence more than usual. 

Eddie walks over to Y/N, she’s just hanging another transparent ball on the tree when he approaches, and is careful not to stab her fingers as she puts the little rope around a needled branch. “How you doing, pumpkin?” Eddie asks her. He wants badly to embrace her, but he and Richie both have noticed that embraces and hugs and contact like that in general isn’t what she’s used to. So his arm drops by his side a little disappointingly after a few seconds.

A question like that is rare between them three, because the three know the obvious answer, but Y/N lets her mind linger a little on it while Sinatra’s voice sings through the house soothingly. She looks at Eddie and offers her best little smile. “I’m excited to decorate the tree.” She answers as best she can, and Eddie smiles even wider. Y/N notices the growing stubble on his chin and around his lips become more apparent when the man smiles. 

“Wanna do it all by yourself?” Eddie asks then, his eyebrows raised in expectancy of an answer. “You’d save me and Rich the trouble.” He says. But a sudden thought crosses his mind. She’d be doing it alone, she’d be doing something alone again. Eddie hesitates a little while Y/N stays silent. “You won’t put the star up on your own, darling.” 

“I can get the stairs from the basement.” She simply says, but Eddie shakes his head.

“We’ll decorate it together, kiddo.” He says and then walks around the tree to get to the other decoration box. Something catches his attention in the way Richie can’t open the packet still, and Eddie goes to help him after sighing and mumbling about how he’s doing it wrong. Y/N smiles to herself again, loving this constant dynamic between the two men. They sort of remind her of little children. She takes another semi-transparent ball from the box and gets ready to hang it up.

When she looks at it, there’s two white doves inside it, in a sort of position of dancing together. Y/N hums. Dad probably bought this one, she thinks then. But dad isn’t here. Her smile drops. Dad’s not here and he won’t be. This is only the first Christmas without him. 

Without her knowing, the ball drops out of her hand to the wooden floor and breaks, making that exact sound. The pieces clatter around the white doves, but she doesn’t notice. Not at first. The realisation has hit her and it has hypnotized her. Then she feels the lack of the tiny rope around her fingers and looks down. 

Richie and Eddie pause their activity of getting the packet open and walk behind the tree to where Y/N is. She’s now crouched down in a squat, trying to pick up the pieces of the ball in her hand, to save it, to put it back together. But her fingers bleed and she can’t manage to pick any of the pieces up because of their sharp edges. 

“Y/N, what happened?” Richie asks, stunned by what he’s seeing. Eddie had grabbed onto his arm a second ago, now he’s gently taking Y/N by her shoulders to lift her up and help her. His plan is to sit her on the sofa and get her fingers bandaged up. 

Y/N lets out an involuntary sob that completely breaks the hearts of both men beside her. Richie pouts and presses his lips together. His mind is empty, he has no idea how to react or what to say. So he only helps Eddie with putting Y/N down on the sofa and stays with her while Eddie goes to fetch the small First-Aid kit in their kitchen. 

Richie’s going through guesses of why Y/N’s crying. Neither of them have seen her cry before, they’ve only seen her puffy eyes or the tears appearing in them before she disappears into her bedroom. They’ve never really been there for her, mainly because she doesn’t let them cause she’s not used to it. Richie presses his eyes closed for a second and then sighs shortly, then decides to screw it.

He leans closer to Y/N and puts one arm around her shoulders and the other on her cheek. Her cheek and her whole body is shaking with sobs, and her fingers bleed down onto Richie’s jumper, but he decides not to care about that. He only cares about her now. “Tell me everything, pumpkin.” He encourages her, and sadly it only makes her cries louder. Richie’s near tears himself.

Eddie comes back with bandages just before Y/N speaks up, though in painful wails. “He’s gone.” Y/N cries, and it makes both Eddie and Richie pause. “I’ve lost him. He’s really… he’s really gone.” 

Richie nods at her words as Eddie crouches to his knees before the sofa, in front of Y/N and her bleeding hands. Are the cuts really that deep to be drawing so much blood? Or is there not so much of it and Eddie’s hallucinating? Richie pulls Y/N closers to himself, her head now relaxing against his chest and crying intense tears. 

Eddie takes her hands from beneath Richie’s embrace and takes a look at them. The cuts really are nasty, and he wastes no time in getting to open the first bandage. Richie, meanwhile, tries to think of what to say to calm Y/N down, what to say so he can help her. Help her heal quicker, help the wound inside her heal faster. What do you tell yourself when you start to think about Stanley’s death? 

“I know, sweetheart, and I’m hurt too.” He tells Y/N. “And yes, we can’t bring him back–”

“Richie!” Eddie hisses, but his partner doesn’t stop. Eddie’s already patched up two of five Y/N’s hurt fingers.

“–but we can live through this. This pain will pass, and yes, it won’t change anything, but you’ll feel better and, one day, you will move on from this horrible pain.” Richie continues. He presses his head against Y/N’s. “We’ll go through it together, alright? You don’t have to suffer on your own.” 

Those words were followed by so many words and emotions spoken by Y/N, she never thought she could say them at all. She never would have expected herself to be able to voice what she’s feeling, but with Richie and Eddie it suddenly felt as safe and as easy as with her own father. And she told them everything she was feeling, is feeling. Her heart still hurts, but it doesn’t seem as heavy - the pain - as it did before. Perhaps because of the knowledge that Eddie and Richie lost a best friend they never saw grow up, never met as a grown up and never knew as an adult. It’s not as heavy when you realise you’re not alone in this pain.

Eddie patches up her fingers and Richie and Y/N change into clean jumpers, and they decide to leave the tree as it is until morning, then they’ll finish decorating it. They sit down on the sofa again, turn on the telly to watch whatever Christmas movie is playing and settle comfortably next to each other. But Y/N decides to cuddle into Richie’s side and stay there. Richie pokes Eddie’s shoulder and gestures for him to get closer, too. Eddie does, carefully placing his arms around Y/N, leaving his hand on top of Richie’s. 

He caresses Y/N’s hair and even places a kiss atop her head. “I’m sorry you had to open up to us this way, sweetheart.” Eddie tells Y/N. “But I’m glad you’ve done it.” He rests the side of his head against Y/N’s and they both sigh comfortably. “You’re not alone in this.” He whispers to her.

“Thank you.” She says in a small voice and puts her hand atop Eddie and Richie’s. The men both smile, and now Richie lays a kiss on Y/N’s head. 

“Merry Christmas, angel.” He says to her. 

One final tear rolls down Y/N’s cheek, but she ignores it. She assumes it’s not a sad tear, but instead a happy one. And she smiles, too. Wider when Stanislav - an indirect nickname for their dog from the name Stanley - runs into the living room and jumps on top of the cuddling pile, squealing happily.

“Merry Christmas, Richie and Eddie.”


	7. Last Christmas - Reddie/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader gets stood up by her school mate, but thankfully Eddie and Richie are there for her. Plus, they think it'd be the right moment to share their feelings.

Imagine choosing the loveliest dress in your wardrobe, the one you bought on accident and have been saving for a ‘special occasion’ ever since. Imagine choosing this dress and putting it on. Imagine finally making the hairstyle you’ve also been saving for a 'special occasion’. Imagine putting on your prettiest shoes. Imagine doing all that, and more, on Christmas Eve day.

She thought she was doing this all for someone who loves her as much as she him, she thought that by sacrificing Christmas Eve one year out of many would only cause her self-blame for a short while and a permanent good change for the rest of her life. But she was wrong. Poor girl.

The person she’d got a date with on Christmas Eve this year was a boy from school. They shared a lot of classes, and Y/N had sported quite the crush on him for quite some time. Whether it was that to have a crush was common for a high school girl of any age, whether it was because many girls liked him, whether it was because of them sharing classes. She never knew, and it doesn’t matter now, anyway. Never did, she supposes.

Her friends knew this boy as well. They weren’t tight, they didn’t hang out after school or at each other’s houses, but they could always hold a flowing conversation if they were seated together in a group project or at lunch or crossing paths in school and around town. The Losers Club and the boy thought the best of Timmy, and had no doubt about him being a good person or deserving of Y/N’s attention.They had no ill will towards the guy, but that was until a certain moment.

His name was Timmy. Doesn’t sound like a typical high school asshole name, does it? Well, truth be told, Timmy’s not one of them, he’s completely the opposite. And though he’s quiet and doesn’t boast, expresses his opinion when it’s needed, is a nice person in general and charming in every way, she never would have expected him to act like a typical high school asshole. She really thought the best of him, too.

Y/N and Timmy had gone on a few dates before this one already, and they were perfect. He was a gentleman and an interesting person, he never failed to make her feel special or make her laugh, and even be glad that she was postponing doing homework because of their date. Guessing, because this was sort-of her first experience in dating, that was the reason she felt so endorsed in the dates and Timmy himself.

There she was, looking beautiful as ever on Christmas Eve in one of the loveliest restaurants in Derry, already having sat at a table for half an hour. Her coat was still covering her shoulders and back and thighs in its dark red glory, her white long-sleeved dress shining through from underneath it. She didn’t like being in this sort of place, a place she didn’t belong in, the people she didn’t belong with. Not that they were some high-class business men or princesses coming to this restaurant, but they were well above the height of her finances or usual dining places.

Timmy should’ve arrived now forty minutes ago, though Y/N’s time spent sitting alone in the restaurant felt years longer than just some forty minutes. She had started to nibble with the skin of her fingers and biting her lip, as well as her foot had started to jump up and down from the floor out of anxiousness. She wasn’t far from crying, either, when two of her friends had caught a glance of her sitting in the restaurant.

Richie and Eddie hadn’t let their internal favoring of Y/N get in the way of their honest attitude towards Timmy. They genuinely enjoyed the boy’s company and liked talking to him, and thought he’s a good person. They also thought Timmy and Y/N would be well together - just talking, or more. But they also couldn’t shake the infatuation with the beautiful girl. A relief to the boys was discovering that Richie and Eddie shared it, but they sort-of stashed those feelings away because they knew Y/N really liked Timmy. And they were best friends, they’d never come between Y/N and her person of interest, the person that makes her cheeks red, makes her mind go blank and her knees go wobbly. But they did wish they were the reason behind these feelings…

“It’s Y/N.” Richie points out. Behind his words are wonders of what she’s doing there, especially, by the looks of it, all alone.

“Yes, I see that, Rich.” Eddie responds. Both their eyes are on Y/N sitting at a table. “Should we go in? I mean, she looks pretty…”

“Pretty shit.” Richie huffs.

“Richie!”

“I mean, she looks like she feels shitty. She’s still gorgeous as ever, of course.” Richie sighs and stuffs a hand in his jean pocket. “Should we go in?” He repeats Eddie’s question, now looking at him.

“She looks very sad.” Eddie says. “She was supposed to meet Timmy tonight. Here.”

“Well, I don’t see him there. Maybe he went to the toilet and drowned. Or something.” Richie wonders, and Eddie sighs in response to it.

“Jesus Christ, Richie.” His head falls into his hands. “I’m gonna go inside. When you’re mature enough, you can come, too.”

Eddie walks over to the entrance and opens the door to enter, briefly glancing over at Richie to see if he’s coming. He is, of course, and he’s faintly jogging over to the open door. He nods as a thank you to Eddie and goes into the restaurant before Eddie does.

The boys ignore an approaching waiter and head right over to the table they see Y/N sitting at. When they near the table, they slow down their pace and carefully sit down in the sofa opposite Y/N, one from each side, like in a musical.

Y/N is surprised to see them here, and she can’t even try to hide it. “Woah, what—what are you two doing here?” She asks, and feels as though her anxiousness and being near tears disappears for a moment. She’s relieved to see friendly faces.

“We saw you through the window, doll,” Richie says and reaches his hand over the table to Y/N’s, “you look sad.” Y/N’s face drops and she almost withdraws.

“We know you and Timmy had a date arranged tonight.” Eddie says. Both boys’ faces bare sympathetic looks towards the girl, and though it should lift her up, they make her eyes drop down to look at the table. Eddie wants to ask how late Timmy is, or has he shown up at all, but he hates to make Y/N feel more sad or uncomfortable. He unconsciously looks to Richie, just like in every moment of his self-doubt.

“How late is he?” Richie simply drops the question he read in Eddie’s eyes as if it’s nothing special. Y/N looks over at the clock on the nearest wall.

“Forty-five minutes.” She says in a quiet voice, her eyes down on the table again.

“Timmy’s an asshole.” Richie whispers to Eddie, turning his head to him. “And he’s not gonna show.” Eddie hesitantly nods, accepting the sad truth.

“We can’t leave her here.” He replies just as quietly. Richie raises his eyebrows.

“You wanna stay where the main course costs a liver?” Richie questions, dumb-founded.

“I think we can manage ice cream together.” Eddie shrugs.

“I’m here, too, you know.” Y/N whisper-shouts in an offended voice. She’s frowning, and Richie and Eddie aren’t far from that, either, seeing her upset.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Richie apologises at the same time a waiter comes up to their table. All three seniors look to him, startled by his presence in their private conversation.

“Good evening. Are you ready to order?” The waiter holds a preppy smile on his lips and grips his pen and notepad between his hands, looking over the adolescents with an expecting gaze.

“Give us each a scoop of your best ice cream.” Eddie says.

“We’ve got a bit of a heartbreak here.” Richie whispers to the waiter. Their words very much confuse Y/N and she slumps into her seat. The waiter nods, writes their order quickly onto his notepad and leaves the table.

Richie and Eddie look hopefully to Y/N, she only gives them wide, but tired eyes in response. “Do you know where Tim is?” She asks them.

Richie and Eddie shake their heads after a few seconds of thinking. They haven’t seen Timmy since last Friday, they haven’t kept in touch since then. Winter break gives every student time to spend with their families and do what they’ve been longing to do all semester, and Timmy’s probably doing that. Or someone, Richie assumes.

“No, sorry, Y/N/N.” Eddie answers. The use of their nickname for her brings her closer to bursting into tears. Her eyes fill with them, but she’s quick to try and blink them away.

“It’s fucking Christmas.” She quietly states and sniffs. “I hope I won’t hate the holiday because of this. I mean, nothing’s even happened! Nothing big, anyway. I shouldn’t have gone out of my house tonight…”

“Stop.” Richie says. “He’s just an asshole, like most guys are. It’s not your fault.”

Y/N lets out a breathy, teary laugh. “I don’t wanna sound stupid, but… I really thought we… me and Tim had something special.” She shrugs and is shy to meet the boys’ eyes.

“You’re not stupid, Y/N. And you don’t sound that way.” Eddie shakes his head and places his hand over Y/N’s on the table. “It’s okay to think that.” Their eyes meet, but not for long. Y/N’s too shy to keep up strong eye contact, and her eyes look to Eddie’s hand on hers. Eddie looks at Richie again. His eyes seem to be asking Richie a question that he reads and understands only after a few seconds.

“Now?” He mouths to Eddie. It doesn’t feel like the right time, they’re both sure of it. But when better? She could be back to dating Timmy tomorrow or even in a few minutes, in the case of him suddenly arriving.

Eddie looks back at Y/N. “Hey,” he says softly, “this might not be the best time to tell you, but…” He trails off, but he has picked Y/N’s interest and she looks up at him eagerly. She waits for him to finish.

“What?” She barely whispers. Well, what could be worse news to hear now?

“We’ve got a crush on you, Y/N.” Eddie says once he’s mustered the courage up, and Richie smiles in his pride for his boyfriend. Y/N’s mouth opens in shock, but she quickly closes it. She looks to Richie for confirmation, and he nods.

“It’s true. And we didn’t tell you because, well, you like Timmy and we didn’t want to spoil that.” Richie adds on. “But we really like you.” Both boys are blushing now.

“We also didn’t tell you cause your heart is kind of taken and it’d be very awkward to get a confession from someone—“

“Two someones!” Richie interrupts his boyfriend with a raised index finger.

“—who you can’t return it to.” Eddie finishes. Y/N sighs quietly.

“I don’t know—wait, both of you?” She makes sure, and the boys nod. She looks away from them again and sees the waiter bringing their ice cream trays over. Oh, thank fuck. “I don’t know, really, what to tell you guys…” She grows nervous again, picking at her fingers and nails gently.

“Here you are.” The waiter says as he places three ice cream bowls down on their table. Richie and Eddie don’t pay attention to the dessert, instead they look at Y/N, panicked.

“Thank you.” Naturally comes from Eddie, and the waiter leaves. “I mean, yeah, you don’t have to return them just because we said anything.”

“Yeah, you know, we just figured we’d finally do it.”

“How long? How long have you… liked me?”

Richie looks to Eddie with furrowed eyebrows, thinking, trying to remember.

“Er…”

“A few months? The past few? August, at least for me.” Eddie shrugs.

“Yeah, we realised around September or so.” Richie confirms, and nods for effect. Y/N nods to show she understands.

“This is a lot information to take in one evening.” She concludes and draws her hands back to herself, looking down at her newly-arrived ice cream dessert. It doesn’t even look attractive to her. But she’s starving. She didn’t eat anything at home since she knew she was gonna get dinner, but now she’s waited for almost an hour for dinner and her stomach is starting to slowly kill her from the inside.

Y/N stares at her ice cream for a long time, while all their ice creams are melting and Richie and Eddie are stressing about what she’ll say to them, or what she’ll do.

“Well, I can say thanks, guys.” Y/N says and looks at both Richie and Eddie.

“Thank you for coming here and for sharing your… feelings. I don’t really know what to say to them, except… I don’t know… I’ll figure everything out, with time.”

Richie and Eddie almost say 'hallellujah’ out loud in relief, but they’re sure to keep their mouth shut. Y/N doesn’t need confusing reactions now. “Okay.” Eddie says, nodding, and looks at Richie for a brief second before looking back at Y/N. Richie nods, too, and gives Y/N a smile.

“We don’t wanna drag you into anything, you know.” Richie informs Y/N. “We don’t wanna put pressure on you.”

Y/N shakes her head. “I’m under a lot of pressure whether I want it or not, what with this whole night and Tim… Christ. I really rather wouldn’t deal with that at all.” She admits.

“Don’t call him.” Richie suggests. “He’s the one that should call you, really.”

“Just leave it be.” Eddie adds with a shaking head.

“It won’t be easy.” Y/N says, to which the boys agree with their heads nodding. That is true, there’s no denying it. Especially when any feeling you feel as deep and intense as Y/N tends to.

“Yeah, but only for a while.” Eddie raises his eyebrows and nods again. Y/N’s sad heart doesn’t yet take his words to heart, sadly, but in time she’ll realise he’s right.

“For now,” Richie starts to say, “Merry Christmas,” he picks up his ice cream spoon, “and enjoy your ice cream.” He delves into his dessert. He makes Y/N chuckle, and Eddie enjoys that sound more than having to scold Richie for changing the subject. But, he thinks, perhaps it’s for the best now to not keep Y/N’s thoughts on the disappointing reality. But he doesn’t say anything, only takes his own spoon in hand.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” He tells her, looking at the girl with kind, searching eyes. She appreciates his wish upon her and nods.

“Thank you.” She takes her spoon softly in her hand. “Merry Christmas, guys. Thanks for being here.”

“Least we can do for our favorite girl.”


	8. Join The Groove! - Richie Tozier/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie Tozier is a loud and foul-mouthed teenage boy, but his demeanor changes around his new dance partner.

“Richie Tozier and Y/N Y/L/N.” 

Now, Y/N and Richie had never been friends. But they aren’t enemies, either. There was no history between them, no ‘beef’, you could say. They simply passed each other in school, shared classes, but their lives didn’t cross. Up until now, though, for the P.E. teacher had called both their names, making them a pair for the dance task. 

Both their eyes meet across the gym hall, shock is in both pairs only for a second. Y/N shrugs, bids “see-you-laters” to her friends and starts walking across the hall to Richie. Her sneakers make squeaky thumps through the hall, making the conversations of Y/N’s classmates quieter. Their eyes watch her, almost unknowingly, being drawn to watch a point of movement naturally, and she hates these eyes on her. The only eyes she needs on her right now are Richie Tozier’s, and for no other reason than their jive task.

Richie has split off his group of friends by the time Y/N’s has reached him, they’re snickering and making jokes about Richie. He only responds with “yeah, yeah, trash the trashmouth, that’s right” and makes cringing facial expressions as well as mocking ones. But when the girl comes up to him, he drops all that act, adjusts his glasses, and smiles at her.

“Good day, m'lady,” Richie says and makes an old-fashioned gesture of welcome towards Y/N, bending over a little and extending one of his arms. She laughs, puts her bag down on a near-by chair, and takes the extended arm. This connection makes both her and his friends laugh and make “ooh” exclaims, but they both ignore it. 

“Good day, my fair sir.” Y/N tells him in response and giggles at her own smart-ass comment. She bows in front of Richie, still holding his hand, and she does a spin when they’ve both straightened up (A/N: like that’d happen to Richie anytime soon). Richie smiles. Richie pulls her back towards him and she ends up with her back against his chest, laughing and Richie is smiling. Not only does she connect with his humor, but she also seems like fun.

Everyone is given their partners - there are groans and whines of annoyance from both boys and girls. Richie’s friends get paired, they’re laughing at each other, ordinary for their age, but blush and fluster once facing their partners. When everyone’s got a pair and are standing around each other awkwardly, avoiding eyes, they finally hear their assigned task for this month of P.E.

“Right, class, simmer down,” the teacher’s voice cuts through the chattering and giggling conversations of her students, and they all turn to listen to what she has to say, “here’s what you’re gonna have to do. Your task is to perform the jive dance as relevantly as you can, which means attire, makeup, hair and, of course, the dance itself. The pair that gets it right the most gets the best grade. You have till the end of May to get it done.” 

All the students groan. Spending sunny May afternoons on a P.E. homework (especially when the last class has been cancelled) was not something they’d enjoy doing. The girls could go swimming, read magazines, go see a movie or even walk around town talking nonsense. Boys could play games at the arcade, build constructors, ride around town or search for their dads’ Playboy magazines for a thrill. But now they would have to spend the last and most fun month of school dancing jive with their partner after school. Lame, right?

“Get to work!” The teacher says, claps her hands and goes back to sit at her desk. Since the kids have already been taught the jive dance, all they’ve got to do now is rehearse it in pairs until they get it right. They’ve got the whole P.E. period for that. And hopefully, they get more work done at school than at home. 

Richie sighs and looks at Y/N, she’s been holding his hands still and waving them around while the teacher talked. She looks at him, too, and holds the same slightly awkward questioning glance in her irises that Richie does. Then Y/N smiles. 

“Let’s join the groove, Richie, what do you say?” She beckons and next thing Richie knows, before he can shoot back something witty, Y/N’s pulling him towards the middle of the sports hall, making the pair the main point of attention from everyone. It doesn’t bother Y/N, and it has never bothered Richie to be receiving the most attention. And so they joined the groove.

Richie wasn’t himself. It was almost like he became a different person when being around Y/N. With his friends, he was same ol’ Richie 'The Voices’ Tozier, but when Y/N was over at his house or she at his, he really was a boy that you’d mistake for Bill Denbrough or Stan Uris. He was Richie, alright, but he was quiet.

You could say she took his breath away, he wasn’t able at all to think. A sarcastic comment? A line in character of one of his Voices? Jokes? Pick-up lines? No, they were all somewhere else, and Richie hoped someone was catching his brain’s radio waves and using all this material wisely. Cause God made sure he wouldn’t. 

He answered questions and replied when Y/N spoke, but that was all. You might ask “is Richie sick? Does his throat hurt?” cause there really could be no other explanation for a part of him to be silenced completely. Maybe it isn’t such a bad thing. Richie isn’t scaring her away or offending her, and maybe he felt like she was finally someone he didn’t have to cover up with his incredible comedy in front of. That certainly sounds like a good thing.

The two had the most fun practicing for the jive task. Y/N got information from her parents about the makeup and shoes, Richie asked his parents about how people dressed when jive was popular and they got everything right down to the smallest details. It’s a miracle, and both teens are very proud of their work. Richie feels that way for the first time, always feeling like his other homework and tests were never perfect, only good. What Y/N has made him feel is also new to him. She’s some new form of life in his eyes. 

Last P.E. class of the school year has come, and it is time for students and their partners to show how well they’ve completed the task. Y/N is finishing fixing up Richie’s hair appropriately to the 1930s, which is slicked-down, sparkling black hair. But Richie was totally against it, he didn’t want any gel in his hair, and Y/N complied. They settled for giving him a boater hat - very fashionable and fits Richie well. So Y/N only pinned down the top locks of Richie’s hair to the sides of his head so they wouldn’t bother while the boy is dancing.

They’re both in the backstage dressing room, and it is a mess. Clothes, tights and makeup are thrown all over the sofas, tables and even the mirrors lined with small light-bulbs. Y/N wonders how people will be able to tell which piece of clothing is theirs after the contest’s over. There will be lots of kids here, too much noise and very stuffy air. Something she doesn’t want to be a part of.

Y/N herself wears a long-sleeved blouse that she tucked into a long, flaring skirt. It’s made for dancing and twirling around and it looks amazing on her, even though it’s three sizes bigger than her own size. Her mom helped her secure the skirt and blouse so they wouldn’t look as big. Doesn’t matter to Richie, though, he found her beautiful in the old-school attire, anyway. But he wouldn’t dare tell her. 

“There, you’re done.” Y/N tells Richie once she’s clipped back Richie’s falling strands, and steps back from him. Richie only adjusts his glasses and nods. Y/N furrows her brows slightly and tilts her head to one side, a thought that something more should be changed appearing. She slowly takes off Richie’s glasses. “Can you still see?”

“Not really, I have myopia.” Richie says, then, and to his surprise, the girl laughs. 

“Sorry.” She says and hurries to put the glasses back on his face. Richie helps her with that, pushing the oculars further up his nose. 

“But my dad gave me some glasses with older frames, he said we could very well use them.” Richie states.

“Oh? Do they have the lenses you need?” She asks, and Richie nods. He begins searching for the small bag of glasses in his bag, and soon finds them. Once he takes them out, Y/N gasps. “Wow, they’re so round. They will fit perfectly!” 

Richie puts them on his nose and Y/N turns him around so he can see himself in the mirror. 

“You look splendid, darling!” Y/N says in a British accent, to which Richie chuckles. He pushes the glasses further up his nose. They really do look great with the 1930s-style suit he’s wearing and the hat. If we don’t get a superb A, I will sue the school. Our efforts out-do everyone else’s. “We’re gonna be the best.” Y/N seems to be thinking the same thing as Richie, and he turns his head to her. She’s gathering all her makeup back in its assigned little bag. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” She informs him, and Richie nods, and she leaves the backstage dressing room, the heels of her dancing shoes clicking loudly against the wooden floor. Richie watches her as she does, and catches himself staring out the door after she’s already out of sight, and immediately turns back to finishing his outfit.

Richie wears a grey suit with a red tie. The tie’s color is supposed to match the ribbon around Richie’s boater, but Richie noticed it’s a different tone from the one around the hat. A darker tone, more cherry. But the ribbon around the boater is a raspberry red.

In the bathroom Y/N meets two of her friends. She’d failed to spend as much time with them as usual in the past month, and is very glad to see them. Even in a backstage bathroom before a contest. “Hey, girls.” Y/N greets the two, and they respond with the same amount of excitement in their voices.

“Hey, Y/N!” Shirley cheers.

“Y/N! We haven’t had a sleepover in so long!” Mary pulls Y/N into a hug.

The three girls do their makeup together, informing each other of their recent news, grades, crushes (if there are any) and some gossip, even. As girls do. A lot has happened to her friends during the last month of school. Eventually the conversation moves to the dance task, the most recent event. 

“So, are you guys ready for the contest?” She asks.

“I’m not that excited.” Mary admits with a frown. Y/N awws at her friend. She looks sad.

“I think me and Eddie are very ready. Though we could hardly get any time to rehearse, his mom called almost every five minutes. She’ll be paying for our phone bill.” Shirley sighs. Y/N furrows her eyebrows in confusion, and sees herself doing it in the mirror. 

“What’s wrong with her?” 

“I don’t know. Kept asking Eddie if he’s not rolling around in grass, if he’s taken his pills or something.”

“Hasn’t he got asthma?” Mary asks. 

“Yeah. But she’s no regular mother.” Shirley answers. “Anyways, Eddie is friends with your partner Richie, right?”

Before Y/N can nod, Mary’s already talking. “How could you stand him? He’s talking like, all the time. And not only that. He jokes around a lot.”

“What? Richie?” Y/N can’t believe what she’s saying. Richie? This quiet partner of hers? That’s just absurd.

“Yeah, Eddie’s told me about him, too.” Shirley says and looks back at Mary for confirmation, they both nod. “Says he’s a great friend, but gets on his nerves.”

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same person?” Y/N turns around, leans against the sink and folds her arms over her chest. She’s not getting defensive or anything, she tends to cross her arms when she’s ready to listen or to figure something out. Shirley and Mary both nod. “But Richie’s quiet. He doesn’t joke around. Well, not always.”

“Strange.” Shirley simply says. “He’s always disrupting Physics, joking around with the teacher or trying to talk to him.”

“Yeah, and History, too.” Mary admits, nodding. “But are you two ready for the contest?” She asks Y/N. She only grins and shoots a wink Mary’s way. 

“I guess you’ll see.” She tells both her friends, and the three laugh. 

Oh, they would see. Nor Richie nor Y/N were anxious before their performance. They weren’t worried about their dancing skills or what they looked like, or if someone would laugh. They were confident of the structural aspect of their performance and were only worried that someone would do something even better than they had. But that is near impossible. 

Richie and Y/N had prepared a little play before they danced, and it was made purposely funny. The author is Richie. The dancing part is also integrated into the conversation their characters had.

Y/N is playing a sort-of high-class girl who was from an aristocratic family and was raised with very good manners. Richie’s character was all the same, except he wasn’t as self-reserved and wasn’t that well-mannered as Y/N’s. And the guy wanted to ask the girl out, and she always denied him, and then he started to dance the jive with her, perhaps another way he thought he could convince her.

The pair came on the stage the very last, maybe that was Richie’s plan. He had noticed that in performances or presentations the audience remembers the last one best, and the first one always has a minor inconvenience happening during the performance. Plus, the last ones have the biggest applause. So he told Y/N to write them down as the last performers.

Nothing went wrong in their performance. It was a miracle that neither of them missed a beat or placed their foot on the other’s or missed anything. They were both smiling while they danced, and are still smiling when they’ve now finished their performance and are standing on the stage, facing each other and holding hands and waists still, in front of the students and teachers applauding and whistling. 

Richie is so mesmerized by Y/N and by how proud, energetic and happy she looks, he forgets that they need to bow in front of the audience. Y/N remembers that and lets go of Richie’s waist and turns both herself and him to face everyone. They bow in sync and smile wide. 

Richie gets a gist of his regular self back and pulls Y/N towards him by her waist again, and makes a pose straight out of an old photograph. As if they were posing as a happy couple. Y/N laughs, and the audience smiles, but Richie only looks down at her. When they start to walk backstage, that is, Richie stops Y/N to say something.

“I guess this is a good time as any,” he starts to say and takes a breath in, “to ask you on a date.” 

Y/N smiles at him widely. Then she realises she actually has to give him an answer, and that a smile isn’t really enough. She nods then, and squeezes Richie’s hands tighter. “I would say yes if you asked me.”

Richie doesn’t laugh, he smiles shyly. Then he steps back from her, bends slightly over, takes off his hat and puts it behind his back, giving Y/N the other hand. He looks at her from below now and grins with one corner of his mouth.

“My fair lady,” he starts to say, and Y/N sighs shortly, happily, “will you do the honors of going on a date with me?”

Y/N bows in front of him, too, as women and ladies would do in the olden days and then takes his hand. Like she did on their first jive-rehearsal day.

“Yes, I will.” Y/N says.


	9. You've Silenced The Great Richie Tozier! - Richie Tozier/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader's tongue is quicker than Richie Tozier's.

“Beats spending it inside your mother.” Richie’s exclaims and raises a hand for Stanley to high-five, but the boy brings it down. Last day of school, the boys have emptied their school bags of their contents, and are currently sharing their summer plans.

“Oh, it’s Y/N.” Eddie announces, he sees the girl coming towards him and his friends. “Hi, Y/N.” Eddie waves at her and Y/N waves back.

“Hey, virgins.” She greets them with a big smile. The boys respond with quiet “hellos”, and they expect Richie to respond with something in his style of conversation, but there’s just a small “hello” from him, too. Bill shows his surprise, looking at Richie with raised eyebrows. Y/N senses the strange silence between the four and scratches the back of her head out of pure nerves. “Why are we all so stiff? Playing manikins?”

“Yeah, haven’t heard of the new play? The plot is set in a clothing store.” Richie says, his tongue back to work. Y/N narrows her eyes at the boy.

“And I assume you’ll be playing the guy who gets a wardrobe makeover?” She raises an eyebrow, and eyes Richie up and down. His friends laugh, and for the first time in his life, Richie doesn’t have anything to say. Even his friends notice. “So, what are you guys doing today? Last day of school!” Y/N wiggles her eyebrows with a grin on her lips.

“W-we have thuh-the Bar-Barrens.” Bill informs her. “Y-You wanna come al-along?”

“Sure. I’ve got nothing else to do, anyway.” Y/N shrugs.

“You’re so sweet.” Richie says sarcastically.

“No sweeter than your dad’s tongue.” She shoots right back, which earns laughter from the other three boys. Richie’s quite frozen on the spot from her quick response. He adjusts his glasses. There’s many things to say, but none of them cross Richie’s mind. And he hates to be losing at a conversation of this sort.

The group of five start to head towards their bikes, though Henry Bowers and his friends are unfortunately in the group’s way. First Bowers pushes Richie into Stanley, which causes both boys to fall down. Y/N immediately runs over to them and helps the boys to get back up on their feet.

Once they’re up again, Richie and Stan both thank her for it. One boy is more flustered than the other, looking at her with deep red cheeks. Confidently, and without shame, Y/N faces Henry Bowers and shows him her clearly pissed off expression. But the bully isn’t looking at her yet. “Hey, Bowers!” She calls out to him. Eddie, Richie, Stan and Bill look to her in a contained panic, and the Bowers gang, all four of them, turn their attention to Y/N, and the main bully sees the angry expression on her face. But it doesn’t intimidate him in the slightest. “The fact that you’re a dick doesn’t make yours bigger.”

“Are you crazy?!” Eddie hisses to her, but Y/N pays no mind to the boy. Eddie’s clearly in worry about her further well-being. Henry Bowers starts approaching her, and she stands bravely between her friends, not intimidated. And even though she’s not afraid of the bully, she knows she should have kept her mouth shut. Just like Richie, this curse of always spitting out jokes and insults, will get her literally killed one day.

“Your summer will be hell.” Bowers growls. “You’ll wish you were never born, you slag.” He tells her.

Y/N still looks at the bully, her slight anger rising more and more in his eyes, and feels a tugging at her skirt. It’s Bill, signalling for her that it’s time to go, but she doesn’t notice him yet. “At least I’m not a failure like you.” She shoots right back at Bowers.

“Fuck!” Richie curses and they have to grab Y/N and make her leave with them a bit forcefully. The only way she could survive now is just to run. She and the boys head in a quick pace to their bikes, they’re running as fast as they can, the Bowers gang right behind them. Though it’s a little hard for Henry to run when his legs are like wooden sticks.

Though Richie is scared to death to actually get caught by Bowers and for Y/N to have the same destiny, he’s very impressed by her. She’s just like him, but—wait, could that be possible?—a bigger trashtalker than Richie. Could that really be possible?

He’s also a bit jealous of her, but mostly he finds this increased, female-version-of-him Y/N quite… attractive. And not just because she speaks the way he does and because their personalities are basically the same, but also because she’s pretty. She’s very pretty. Though he feels like her personality bests her looks (No offense, Y/N’s face, he thinks). She’s magnetic.

“Fuck, I forgot my bike.” Y/N realises a big detail.

“You can ride with me.” Eddie proposes, and Y/N nods. They try to get on their bikes as fast as they can, with Bowers right around the corner.

“Be careful, Eddie, she might give you cooties.” Richie says, already on his bike and waiting for his friends to get started.

“You’ve already got all of them.” Y/N responds before Eddie can, and the boys laugh, despite their situation.

Y/N gets on the back of Eddie’s bike, and off they all go. Bill leads his friends the shortest way to the Barrens, they pedal behind him as fast as they can. Y/N hears Bowers yelling profanities after them, threats that he will find them and make this summer their last.

But the girl only laughs at his threats and yells, and that takes Richie’s attention once again. He adjusts his glasses and grins at the girl. She’s completely untouched by Bowers and what comes with the name, the fear of him is chained to his last name like a dog to a fence. She’s reckless, and she’s funny. She’s got a strong spirit. And Richie digs that. He hasn’t met a girl like her before.

At least one that hangs out with him and his friends, and is, on the inside, a good person. Y/N looks over at Richie. “What are you looking at, Tozier?” She asks. “Glasses don’t work? I’m not Diane Lane, sorry, sweetheart.”

The other boys laugh, but Richie’s reaction is lesser. There’s only a smile on his lips. “You wish.” He says to her, and Y/N sticks out her tongue at him.

“You wish you were Matt Dillon, Tozier.” She says, and looks at the road in front of her, and Eddie’s hair that gets in the way of this view.

Richie hangs onto her words, and doesn’t want to admit the truth in them. He does wish so, Dillon’s the biggest heartthrob of this decade. There isn’t a boy who doesn’t wish to be in his shoes, with his looks and his charm. Cause all the girls dig Matt Dillon.

“You like him?” Richie asks her, and Y/N turns her head back at him. She raises an eyebrow once again.

“What’s it to you?” She asks. Richie pretends like he’s thinking, thinking deeply. His hand on his chin and a far-away look in his eyes.

“Say, what would you do if I woke up tomorrow and I would be Matt Dillon? Look like him, talk like him.” Richie proposes an idea. “What’s your action?” He raises an eyebrow and grins suggestively.

“You’d be in Hollywood, which is a thousand miles away, so… I wouldn’t really be able to do anything.” Y/N says, shrugging.

“Take a left!” Bill yells from the front, and Eddie speeds in front of an appalled Richie. The glassed boy only stares after Y/N on the back of Eddie’s bike. She’s got a big grin on her face, and she even laughs at Richie. Once again, she’s made him lose his voice.

“Ha-ha! I’m in front of you!” Eddie brags to Richie. The boy’s always been the fastest, but not now. He can’t even think of being at the very front of his friend group. It doesn’t even seem to matter now, doesn’t seem like the most important thing.

What does though, is how to out-smart this girl. But looks like she’s always a step–no, correction–a joke ahead of Richie. She’s out-sassed him, and Richie is blown away. No one’s ever done that before. And a girl? Most girls these days can’t even look guys in the eye without fainting or blushing red like tomatoes. But Y/N’s different. And Richie can’t deny that he finds her hot, and her snapping back and out-smarting him.

Through the time the Losers and Y/N spent together on the last day of school, most of it was spent listening to Y/N and Richie going back and forth with jokes, too-corny-to-be-used-properly pick-up lines and pop-culture references. Though Y/N mostly beat him down, winning the unofficial contest. And she left Richie with his mind blank and mouth hanging open quite often. Bill, Eddie and Stanley had laughed at their friend. They were thankful to have found someone who makes the all-powerful Richie Tozier stutter and actually doubt his superiority in the comedy business.

He became quite fascinated with her, and he couldn’t even hide his blush when she spoke to him. Though he did try to hide it, she still saw the pink tint coloring his squishy cheeks. And she had laughed, but to herself. She didn’t want to embarrass the boy more than she already had. But it did make her feel a little powerful to be able to do so.

“Oh, no, now I get it.” She had said, and Richie had looked at her. For some reason, he thought she’d have a genuine statement to make. “You’re auditioning for the red dress in the play.” She had concluded, and left Richie with his voice stuck in his throat.

“With a pale skin like yours, you’ll do great as the white one!” He’d soon replied, which earned him a splash of Derry sewer water on his legs. The boy had only laughed and looked at the magnetic girl with wondering, wide eyes.

“I’ll do great as a vampire.” Y/N had responded, and made a face that was supposed to mock the mentioned creature.

“And live off other people’s blood? Disgusting, but enticing.” Richie makes an i’m-thinking face.

“I think blood is much more valuable than relying on them to always laugh at your jokes.” Y/N had admitted, and that earned her a splash of grey water on her legs. She’d squealed, but with a smile, and given an even bigger splash back to Richie. He’d gasped, almost covered in the liquid head to toe, and looked at Y/N.

“You’re dead!” He’d screamed and pin-pointed the moment all hell broke loose. More specifically, he broke the hell right onto Y/N. An intense water duel had begun then, which no one except Richie and Y/N took part in, finding the activity more disgusting and unnecessary than standing by and watching would ever be.


	10. Each Time He Falls In Love - Richie Tozier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Each time you fall in love,  
> It's clearly not enough.  
> You sleep all day and drive out in LA,  
> It isn't safe.
> 
> And each time you kiss a girl,  
> You never know what it's worth.  
> You say all of the words they wanna hear,  
> It isn't real...
> 
> She took you for a ride in summer baby,  
> Lost all your money to her.  
> All I wanna know is - if you love her -  
> How come you never give in?
> 
> Each time you have a dream,  
> You never know what it means -  
> You see that open road and never know which way to go...

Every girl was different, but still they were the same. They were all united by not being enough, if that makes sense. It didn’t click till the very end. All these twenty-seven years spent alone and in on-and-off relationships, one time flings, the man didn’t know what was missing. And every time there was something missing, there was, he could feel it physically.

Something that kept him from opening every door up in himself. Something that didn’t make the relationships seem like relationships to the fullest. Fear of commitment? Not really. He didn’t know he needed to discover himself to every last bit, he didn’t know there was the apparent difference in him he had to find. He didn’t suspect a thing that could explain why his relationships felt hollow and plain. You could say he left it in a certain place, left it there to be forgotten.

A girl he could talk for hours with was the first one. Richie couldn’t explain it, not even to himself, but she said things that perfectly fit with what he’d say. He never grew bored of her, or talking to her, or listening. It was his first year of college, and he honestly felt lost. First time being in school without his group of friends, first time being in school without the fear of bullies, but with the fear of being alone. He didn’t really know how to go through a regular day without his friends.

But she made him feel a little less lost. She was always there, actually. Whether he was in his dorm studying or at a drive-in at midnight or after school, at a book store downtown, maybe even grocery shopping. She was there with him, making him feel not so alone.

He sort of felt bad for her, Richie felt like he was using her as a substitute for his friends. But she never felt like that, she didn’t know about him having friends, actually, nor did he ever tell her about his hometown or how bad he felt. She felt grateful for the friend she had, even if he wasn’t the only one. But Richie felt like a true friend out of the few she had gathered.

He did care for her, the feeling was mutual. One day Richie guessed he was in love with her. Was it the effect after having slept together? Must have been.

It was such an intimate, but incredible experience. She felt so soft, so silky. She was the perfect getaway. From what? What were you running from? What are you running from? Richie got completely lost in her. She was his first experience, and it felt heavenly. He wanted to do it again and again, and again. His sexual stigma was certainly high for the rest of the college year.

And he guessed that’s what falling in love meant. Losing yourself in the person, wanting more of them, possibly more than they can give. Yes, that is true. But that is not all that falling in love means. Unfortunately, Richie stopped there and for a while he was sure that’s all that falling in love was. When he grew older, he realised that’s simply infatuation. And he was sad when he came across that realisation.

Richie told himself that he was in love with her. It’s what the girl needed, he guessed, and what he needed. There was no talk of ‘want’. Maybe he told himself so because he loved her in bed, maybe because she was a sort of solace, or maybe it was simply because she was falling head over heels for him. And she wasn’t ashamed to say it, she liked the feeling of being in love, and it brought her more comfort and joy to know that Richie was in love, too. Well, the way he acted was surely convincing.

Their infatuation with each other ended when they graduated. Sure, he’d promised to write to her and call her every week or so, even go visit her. And he did at first, but much to his own disapproval, these frequent messages died out slowly. From a call a day to no calls at all. Dates once or twice a month to not even a suggestion to arrange one. Letters? Richie was never good at writing them.

Richie, once again, felt bad for that to have happened. But he agreed with himself to always keep her in his heart. She was his first… First everything. Girlfriend, friend in college, sexual experience, love… At least he thought so for a very long time. Maybe she really was his first love. No. He’s not so confident of it now, with years already passed.

Lucy came to him in the summer after he took a gap year. He did it to put himself in order and take a bit of a break. Not like he needed one, but he took a gap year and it served him well. Richie got on the right track, and figured out what he really wanted to do, which would also make him hella rich, as he had calculated with his brilliant mind.

They met on a sunny day in LA, June. Richie was driving around because he had already slept half the day away, and figured he’d find something to do if he drove around. LA was, as always, filled with people, and full of things to do, places to go. Though none felt appealing to Richie. Could be the exact same reason why he had spent most of his days in his bed.

He never would have called it what it was - depression. He just felt lazy, and empty, and always tired. There was not a thing he could think of that seemed the least bit interesting or fun for him. And he missed the friends he had forgot. He didn’t know who he missed, and immediately assumed that he missed her. From college. Once again, his brain assumed the thing he knew best, the easier choice, instead of digging deeper to find the actual truth.

Lucy was… Well, she was even more magnetic than she-from-college was. She hypnotised Richie, she poisoned him with what she was and what she wanted. It might all sound wrong, but it was only because Lucy and what they had together was so intense. There were no other words to describe it.

Well, alright, the thing between them was also fast, it didn’t last long. Not even the whole summer. Could be a month or two, but no longer. The end didn’t hurt as much as it made him angry.

He took her wherever she wanted to go, and again, he was sure that was love. Giving your all to someone, no matter if you actually have something to give or not. So much money… Richie didn’t even have a proper job yet, and he gave her every penny he had. When their fling ended, he was so mad at himself for letting such a big amount of money go on a single person. And for what? Just because she wanted this and that.

Richie screamed and punched the walls, and he told himself he wasn’t in love with her anymore. It took him a while to realise that he liked Lucy so much because her fire matched his. Together, they really were like fireworks going off, a house full of fire that is only fuelled by more and more oil and things that could burn. But it isn’t always equal to falling in love.

So much lust, and so much desire. They fuelled each other constantly, whether it was sex or talking or eating, or anything else. And that’s what attracted Richie to Lucy.

They went to amusement parks, comedies, stand-up shows, road-trips, game nights, karaoke bars… Basically anywhere that anyone could have fun at. And all of these places checked the money box, too. She hadn’t spent a single dollar where they went, it was all Richie. And it angered him after they called it quits.

Then there was a girl working in a bar in downtown LA, who was a very secretive and sort of covered-up person, just like Richie, but who was fun to be around. Another one was an assistant of Richie’s former boss. She was quiet, and polite, and for a while she was the she is all I need, Richie thought. And a man with humor, money and a good heart can actually get anything he wants. But this man didn’t. Not really.

He liked all the girls and women he went out with, he did love them at some point, and would never forget them. How could you ever forget the love of your life? Richie asked himself one night, not knowing he had done it already. Even before her-from-college. Richie had completely forgot - and along with that - lost the only person he ever loved with the fire of a thousand suns, the first and only love of his life.

It was when Mike Hanlon called him had he actually remembered having friends when he was younger, having a childhood and growing up altogether. The memories came one by one, but they were coming, alright, and they were coming strongly, like a train at full speed towards Richie.

Throwing up his lunch was the least dramatic reaction you could expect from the man. There was truly a lot to remember, and some things shocked Richie Tozier himself. Nothing shocks this guy, right? No, actually, there are a few things that might.

Standing in the restaurant Mike had arranged their dinner, looking at the man he can recognise off the bat without trouble, Richie Tozier realises what all those girls and women were lacking. What that one thing, one simple, tiny detail that made the biggest difference, really was. 

This is what he had been searching for, this is who he has been searching for. This is what would have filled the empty hole in Richie long ago, if only they’d both known… Actually known that the only person they need in the whole world is each other. They loved each other more than anything, but they couldn’t admit it. They were scared, and terrified of what would happen to people like them. 

This is who he was missing during college, during his gap year and the summer after it, and the rest of his life. Richie was missing the person he was made for. He was missing the person he was born to love.

He suddenly sees the young boy. The young boy with a fanny pack and wide, brown eyes, who wore short shorts in the summer and colorful t-shirts. The young boy who always clung to his inhaler, even when he wasn’t in need of it. The boy he liked to tease and call him the way he hated to be called, whose cheeks he pinched and whose arms he tickled, only to see him smile.

And he sees himself, too. Young, reckless. The huge glasses he still wears which made his wide eyes even bigger. The t-shirts he used to wear. Though they were never the ones he really wanted to wear, he wanted to wear funny shirts, not designers. He sees his own short shorts, and sees his messy dark hair. And he sees the smile he had when looking at the love of his life. 

All he needs is to look at the love of his life for the rest of his life. Not a quiet assistant, not a fierce teenager, not a psychology major, not someone he could simply have fun with or spend money on. All he ever needed was Eddie. Eddie who? Eddie Kaspbrak. 

Seemed like the world made sense again. Every gearwheel seemed to fall in the right place finally, and each stopped there, no need to go further. No need for Richie to search further for the perfect place or the perfect person, because he is standing right in front of him. And smiling. Thank goodness he’s smiling. The sight makes Richie realise what’s been missing from his heart, and fall for the man in front of him even more.


	11. Like Father, Like Daughter? - Richie Tozier/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie Tozier has a daughter, and because of his endless worries, he's taken her with him back to Derry.  
> Warnings: anxiety.

How do you even say hello to them? Your father’s known these people since childhood, they’re his best friends. They’re the most important people to him in the world, just as important as you. And how do you not screw up with a first impression?

There must be hopes built up for you and what you’re like… If you’re like your father or not, how much you two are actually alike. But you’re not what they’re worried about. They don’t even know you’re coming! Their main excitement is about Richie himself. What’s he like? Has he changed? How much of him do they actually remember, and how much of that is true?

Truth is, you’re not like your father. You haven’t inhabited the restless humor or the ability to improvise in general. What if they don’t like you because of it? What if his friends want you to be the same, even expecting that of you? And you don’t meet their standards… 

You really wish your mother was here. She’d be your anchor, she’d make you worry less. But how would you know? She left when you were five. You hadn’t become the person you are today by the age of five, or even a person, so you couldn’t have known her at all and there’s not much to remember, to go on. Only thing you remember is that she was kind. And you built a fairy-tale around that single feature. What else would there be to do?

Perhaps that’s why you’ve grown into more of a quiet person. That makes you different from your dad Richie. He adores it, honestly, having not the feeling of looking into a mirror each time he sees you. He can’t say you remind him of your mother, either, you’re not a replica of her, either. You’re like… a mix between them. Somewhere in a grey area that is what Richie isn’t and what your mother is, is a little spot called ‘Y/N’. 

You, Y/N, are still sitting in your dad’s second-most expensive car (the expense of it makes you wonder why he’d bring such a car to a place like this), outside of a restaurant you’re both supposed to meet his old friends at. Richie’s standing outside, leaning against this horribly pricey car, patiently waiting for you to come out, when you’re ready. He’s surprised it’s not the other way around - you waiting for him to get out. He supposes that his own sentiment will come at some point. He already felt longing and wonder while driving through some of Derry’s streets.

Your eyes watch a woman with striking red hair and a man in a denim jacket interact in front of the restaurant’s entrance. They embrace, and then they enter the building. Huh. Maybe they’re two of dad’s friends. Maybe. You sigh and untwist your sweaty hands from the knot they’ve formed. You run them over your denim thighs, fast at first, but you slow your movements and calm yourself down. You think you’re ready to go out there and face whatever. Why does this feel like some big step, some big life-changing step now? Why does it feel like the world’s stopped spinning suddenly? 

Try to shake the feeling, it’s only dad’s friends. It’s not the end of the world. You’re gonna be fine. Your hand pushes the car door open before you could protest against it, and when you step out of the car, your father turns his head around to see you. His eyebrows are raised, his eyes locking with yours through his glasses, and he walks around the car to reach you. Your eyes meet the ground out of shy habit, but a second later you feel Richie’s hand on your shoulder firmly, comfortingly. You look up then, and are met with your father’s concerned eyes.

“You okay, kiddo?” He asks, and you, out of another habit, nod. He knows it’s false, you’re so worried he can see right through you. “Want a hug?” Another nod. You feel yourself embraced by your father not a second later and you sigh against his chest. “They’re gonna love you,” Richie says, “I know it even though I barely remember them.” 

You laugh with him. “Thanks, dad.” You say.

“No problem, baby.” Richie says. “And, hey, I know it’s a stupid thing to say, but don’t worry so much. I should be the worried one, fuck’s sake, what if they’ve changed too much to like me anymore? Pshht.” He makes you giggle again. “What I’m trying to say is,” your father’s hand moves soothingly over your back, “you’re perfect even if you’re not like me. Alright?”

You nod against his chest, and you both pull apart. 

“Now, let’s head in. I’m actually excited for this.” Richie admits, looking upon the restaurant. He sighs, looks back at you and gives out his hand. You eye it for a second, but then take it with no further hesitation.

Your father’s grip is tight, and you get the quiet thought at the back of your head that he’s afraid. You look up at him for a few seconds, thankful he’s not looking back at you. You don’t like to be caught in the middle of your analysis, even if it is your father you’re analyzing. And you truly see fear in his eyes. Just the smallest amount, but enough to be real. 

All six of them, as Richie had said, are sure enough standing in the restaurant’s booth and conversing amongst themselves. The pair you saw outside are a part of this group, you were right. Wow, this surely is something. A lot of friends. Even for your father’s warm and energetic persona, six friends are a bunch. Your wide eyes quickly switch between them all, not knowing who to focus on, wondering which name belongs to who. 

One of them, a man with dark, curly hair dressed in a checkered button-up (people still wear those?) turns to you, having felt your curious gaze on him and his friends. His face is laced with nervousness, similar to yours, and from your point of standing, you notice small marks on the sides of his face. The man on his left, dressed in a flannel and sporting some grey strands of hair already, turns to you, too. But a faint smile appears on the first man’s face when he’s looked longer at you. He might have an idea or two about who you are, because you certainly look the part.

“Hey, who’s this?” He asks his friends, his hand faintly pointing at you from a low angle. You gulp when the rest of the adults turn to look at you. They spot both Richie and you, and there’s a gasp from the woman with red hair and one from the guy who looks not a few inches taller than yourself. His gasp is sharper and deeper, almost a panicked one, you think.

Your father breathes an exasperated sigh, taking in all his old friends. “Fuck. You lot look great.” Is what he says first, and his friends are silent. Simply because they’re too shocked to even laugh, not sure if they’re right to. “Hello.” Richie says and gives a little wave. His friends are still in shock, and now Richie notices why - their eyes are fixed upon his offspring. She must be in a huge panic now.

He puts an arm around your shoulders, squeezes tight and smiles at his friends. “Right. This is my daughter.” He says. His friends’ responses mix together since they speak at once, and Richie can’t tell them apart. “Y/N, meet my friends.” 

Richie guides you the few steps towards the curly-haired man. You extend your right arm, as does he, and though your dad’s embrace gives you comfort, it also limits your movements. “Stanley Uris. Nice to meet you.”

“Y/N Tozier.” You say, and suddenly saying your birth name, which you’ve had for a whole of seventeen years, gives you pride and you feel it through your whole body. Your face lights up, you give Stanley a smile that stretches to your ears and your cheeks flare with a subtle rosy blush. 

“Very nice to meet you, Y/N.” Stanley says, shaking your hand firmly and smiling at you, nodding his head. Looking into Stanley’s eyes, you can feel they’re searching your face and looking you over, clearly finding features you share with Richie. He, your father, does let go of you eventually, when you’re done shaking hands with Stanley, and goes to greet his old pal Stanley now. As you walk over to the flannel guy, you hear your father and Stanley embrace and laugh together. 

“Hi, I’m B-B-Buh-Bill Denbrough.” The man speaks first and gives his arm for you to shake, which you do. It takes a second to remember his name, and now you recognise the stuttering best-selling author your dad told you about on the plane. “You luh-look a lot like R-Richie.” Bill says. “Your father, I me-mean.” 

“No worries, he’s Richie to me, too.” You say in response. “We keep it formal in the Tozier house-hold.” You surprise yourself with a voice imitation of some business man breaks out of your own throat. Naturally breaks out, and you have to take a moment to realise what’s happened. As natural as breathing.

Bill Denbrough laughs. “I see he’s puh-passed the Voices down t-to you, as well.” He says. You only shrug, generally awestruck by what broke out of you seconds ago. 

“I’m Mike Hanlon.” Comes from the man standing a little behind Bill. You have to look up at this man, he’s taller than the previous two, as tall as your dad. You smile at Mike, recognising his name.

“You’re the one who called dad.” You say, then, giving your hand to Mike for shake, but he surprises you with a hug. You’re a little shocked and frozen, at first, but you don’t mind the hug. Makes you feel a little easier, makes you feel welcomed into the company. 

“Glad to meet you, Y/N.” Mike says to you. How strange. Have we met before? You want to ask him, but you decide against it. 

“Glad to finally meet someone as tall as my dad.” You say instead and Mike, Bill and the remaining friends to greet laugh. You pull away from Mike Hanlon’s grip and are met with quite the fitness guy. Oh, wait, that’s the one in the denim jacket. You could have sworn your first impression of him was that of a cowboy, his denim jacket and leather boots sure make for the part. 

“I’m Y/N.” You say, finally speaking first, before the man can introduce himself. He chuckles and shakes your extended arm.

“I’m Ben Hanscom.” He tells you with a warm smile on his face. His name rings a bell and you look for which bell is that. Have you heard him on the radio? The news? On Twitter?

“Wait a second,” you say, turning your head slightly to the side, “aren’t you the guy who designed the famous building in London?”

Ben Hanscom nods, a little embarrassed, and there’s even a blush on his cheeks. “That’s me, yeah.” He confirms. You chuckle.

“Don’t worry, I don’t want an autograph.” You shake your head. Thankfully, Ben laughs, and lets you move closer to the woman with red hair. Before you greet her, though, you look over your shoulder to see your dad. He’s embracing both Bill and Mike, and he looks very happy doing so, he looks very happy to meet them. Stanley’s already choosing his seat at the round table.

Whispers from the near-by conversation catch your attention, and you listen in for a second.

“R-Richie, man, all due respect, buh-but I don’t think hav-having Y/N here is safe. For her. F-For you.”

“Yeah, man, you should have left her with her grandmother or something.”

“Long story short, fellas, her mother’s out the picture and all grandparents are dead. Yes, I could have arranged some activities for her while I’m gone, but I… I don’t know. I didn’t think she’d be safe alone at home or anywhere without me, if I’m here. You know?” Your father speaks much too quickly, he’s nervous, he’s afraid.

“That could be, yeah.”

“So I figured I better take her with me, so I can keep an eye on her and actually keep her safe.”

“You-you better. It’s very duh-dangerous for her to be here.”

“Oh, like we’re safe in a durable bubble here, Big Bill.”

But you turn your head to face the red-haired woman as if you hadn’t heard anything. And you give her your best smile.

“My, you’re a pretty thing.” She says and also pulls you into a hug, just like Mike did. You have no time to notice the bruises around her wrists. “You look like a doll, just like your father.” She tells you and then pulls back, but still holds your shoulders and runs her eyes over your features. It makes you nervous, and your eyes look lower, to her shoulders. “I’m Beverly.” She finally tells you.

“I’m Y/N.” You say and she nods. 

“A very pretty name. Are you sure you’re Richie’s kid?” Beverly teases, and you can only chuckle. “He wanted to give all his kids, like, Star Wars or Lord Of The Rings names. I wouldn’t allow him to name my kids back then.”

“Sounds like mine’s the best choice.” You respond. This is news to you about your father. And you realise you’d gladly hear a lot more about what he was like as a kid. He’s never talked about his childhood, never told a funny story from that time, and it’s only now occurred to you. Sure, you’ve wondered what your father was like when he was your age, but asking never crossed your mind. What you don’t know is that your father didn’t remember his childhood until today. And you’re excited to hear stories.

“Hey, kiddo,” says the man short in height, who is also the last one you have to meet out of Richie’s friends, “my name’s Eddie.” He gives you his hand to shake, and you do, and notice that he looks at your hand a little suspiciously for a brief second.

“I’m Y/N.” You tell him, smiling politely. 

“So strange that you’re Richie’s kid.” Eddie wonders once your hands aren’t touching anymore and he’s stuffed his pair of hands into the pockets of his jeans. He shakes his head as you furrow your eyebrows. Eddie looks at Beverly. “Think Richie was the last one we thought would ever have kids, right?” Beverly nods to his question, and there’s a wandering look in her eyes. “Tell me, how many times did he drop you when you were little?” Eddie asks, then, and the question makes both Beverly and you laugh. Eddie’s humor is similar to Richie’s.

“Very funny, Eds,” the mentioned man’s voice comes from behind you, and so does his hand on your shoulder. Eddie visibly tenses up and his face changes.

“Don’t call me that.” He tells Richie, but he doesn’t respond.

“I may have been a big joke back then, but, as I look upon you all now,” Richie makes a circular gesture to his circle of friends around him, “I’m the one who’s raised a beautiful kid out of the whole seven of us.” Your father boasts and everyone laughs. You smile and lean into his side. Meeting his friends has been ten times better than you anxiously had anticipated. 

The Losers Club, a nickname Richie announced when he also banged the gong in the corner of the room, and you moved to the round table and took seats around it. You chose the seat between Stanley and your father. Eddie and Ben were to Stanley’s left and Beverly, Bill and Mike were on your dad’s right. Through the course of the dinner, it turned out you’d chose the best seat. Whether it was out of nerves and social anxiety or just pure clinginess to your parent, didn’t matter now. 

Your father and Eddie were quite the bickering house-wives, and to hear Stanley’s little comments to himself only added to how funny everything was where you were sitting. Also, Stanley talked to you about being nervous, saying he’d noticed your shaken form and wide eyes, and talked about his own nervousness. That made you ease up even further. 

The dinner was filled with laughter and fun, made you forget all your worries. Hearing all the stories about Richie as a kid, finding out the nicknames they gave each other, and joining them in re-discovering their childhoods. Spending time with your father’s friends… You never thought you’d be in this kind of situation, yet here you are. You write this dinner down as one of the best days with your father, if not the best.


	12. Kiss It Off Me - Richie Tozier/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie Tozier seems to be having a panic attack one late night in his college dorm room, and he doesn't know why. Perhaps he'll only find out two decades later. But for now, he has her. And perhaps she can erase the pain and stop the endless tears falling from his face.  
> Warnings: angst, NSFW, emotional intercourse.

He is crying. He’s crying, and he doesn’t know why. It started so suddenly, tears started pouring out of his eyes and he might have started sobbing because he started to panic. He panicked cause he didn’t know why these tears came, and they still keep coming and he’s still confused. Where is this coming from? Just a second ago he was completely fine. Not like he was extremely happy or ecstatic about anything, but he was fine, reading, doing his homework. And now he just can’t stop crying.

Nothing sad or traumatic or big had happened, either, nothing that he could have a late reaction to. Everything is sort of fine in Richie’s life. But with the tears and sobs there is also an ache somewhere deep in him, somewhere near his heart. A sort of feeling you get when… you miss something. Or more, someone. But who? Who am I missing? Who’s missing from me?

Then Richie thinks, maybe I’m nervous about my birthday tomorrow. But that can’t be. He’s never nervous, he’s never sad. He doesn’t even pay attention to his birthdays, they’re nothing special to him. Richie rarely celebrates. 

But here he is, tears falling all over his lap and his homework pages, he’s sobbing and wheezing on the evening before his birthday. He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, but that only seems to increase the quantity and pace of his tears. So Richie lets them fall, he lets himself cry. He lets the tears fall all over his homework, his book, his desk. And Richie closes his eyes, and tries to quiet the sounds he’s making. 

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” 

He never heard the door of his dorm opening, and so he jumped a little when he heard her voice. Sounded just like an angel’s. Richie hurried to get his glasses back on to, in some way, conceal his crying state. But she had already heard his sobs, and she could tell he’s crying. The only question is why.

She approaches him from the left side, and looks at Richie’s slightly disheveled state. Looks like his cheeks are wet, as well as everything else around him. His notes, his sources, his desk, his shirt and pants. Y/N brushes her hair back so she’d have a better look at Richie and both their surroundings, and she leans against his desk with her bum.

“Did something happen?” She asks, her voice quieter, almost a whisper. Richie feels ashamed of his crying, and he can’t even look at her because of it. He can only look down and rest his head in both his palms. Y/N frowns. “Has someone died?” Her voice is now a scared whisper. She’s scared to touch something that he doesn’t want to discuss with her question.

Richie shakes his head. He can’t even tell her that he doesn’t know what’s wrong. His head hangs lower as words fail. Y/N quietly huffs and looks away from Richie, thinking of a way to approach him so that he’d talk to her and possibly tell her what’s gone wrong. She doesn’t want to push herself onto him, doesn’t want to push further than he is comfortable. But she’s also worried, she’s mad worried that something might really have happened. If it has, its effect on Richie is big, and it’s scaring her. She’s never seen him cry before.

Y/N bites her lip during the thinking process, all while Richie still works on calming himself down. She’s scared to get closer to him, afraid he’ll mind, afraid he’ll push her away. She gets near a semi-solid idea of what to do in a few minutes. She moves to get off the desk, but she stops. Richie grabs onto her hand desperately, and she looks down at him. She’s a little frightened.

He says nothing with words, but with his eyes he does. They’re begging her. Tears are still streaming down his face, and he begs her with his eyes to stop it, take them off, take it away from him, make it stop. Y/N picks it up. She sits herself down across Richie’s legs, sitting sort-of sideways. 

Kiss it off me

A silent prayer. Richie still looks at her with these sad, tired, begging eyes. They make her sad, too, and she wants to understand this sadness, she wants to understand Richie. What’s behind these tears, this begging? Richie’s lip quivers, and he presses them together. Looks like he’s stuttering, as if he’s trying to say something, but can’t get it out properly.

Y/N rests her hand on the side of Richie’s neck. Her fingers reach into his hair and tug at the ends of it in their natural journey. Richie’s eyes still stay on hers. “What is it?” Richie gulps, and his lips still struggle to form words. They fail, once again. But he finds his way somehow, some way. 

“Kiss me.” Comes a stranded whisper finally.

Kiss it off me

It scares the girl at first. Only because it’s so sudden. And you might call her naive or even submissive, but she’ll do anything to make Richie feel better. So she takes on the job, gathers all her confidence, and presses her lips down to Richie’s.

He responds like a magnet, immediately grasping her hips and pulling them down to his own with such force Y/N gasps against Richie. She’s so surprised to see him like this, to feel him like this. He’s radiating such intense energy, and Y/N is sure it’s sexual. There’s definitely something excited between his legs, she’s felt it already. And her hand desires to touch it, to feel it. She can’t understand where this desire comes from.

Richie’s tears are now wetting her cheeks, their streams are becoming a glue between their bodies. The wetness binds together their skins, their lips, their shirts, their souls. The tears fall down into both their mouths. 

Yes, his kisses are wet, and not only because of the tears. They’re wet, and they’re messy, and they’re oh so very needy. He needs the tears to stop, he needs the crying to stop, he needs this horrible curse lifted off him. Richie thinks she’s the only one who is capable of doing it. He needs her, he wants her now. And she’s right there, willing to give herself to him. Partly, fully—she doesn’t care, whatever works for him she’s sure will be good enough for herself.

His fingers invade the territory under her shirt, and she’s sure he’s gonna leave marks, at least, if not bruises. Richie moves his hands roughly against Y/N’s skin, gripping her sides and curves, pressing his digits into her tummy, her back, her chest, her arms. He feels desperate to feel her, to feel something, something other than this deep hole in him, the sorrow, the missing. He’s trying to find out by touch whether she is the thing that’s missing from him. 

Y/N grinds against Richie, his thigh, his stomach, his crotch, what he makes her feel is so intense. She thinks his intensity has rubbed off on her, he’s poisoned her with his venom, and she takes up every little bit of it. Her arms have wrapped themselves around Richie’s neck, and marks definitely will be left there. She’s trying to kiss him, but she simply can’t. He’s stolen all her breath with his hands.

They’ve dug deep under her skirt, dug quite deep into her. He’s feeling out every part of her womanhood, two fingers roughly slammed into her and his thumb pressing on the bud of her sensitivity. Y/N’s surprised she hasn’t fallen over yet, her head dizzy, eyes hazy and her body in an over-all fainting state. Richie marvels in the feeling of his fingers moving through her slickness, his eyes close, and he sighs deeply between his panting breaths. 

Her eyes are screwed shut and her mouth is widely open in an oval shape. Her hair is a little messed-with, and falling over her face and neck and shoulders. Richie can’t help but think that this is the most heavenly sight. Maybe she’d look better with her face looking up at him, mouth full. Oh, he can feel the pre-cum already coming out and staining his boxers and jeans. Only the thought of her in such a position with him elicits this sort of response, only the thought.

Richie’s still crying, though, and neither he nor she can guess why. But because he’s crying, and because he’s about to give her the first best orgasm of her life, Y/N feels tears slowly streaming down her own face. And she sobs, and she moans, and she pants, and she even whines. Richie sniffles and breaks her shirt right open with the hand that isn’t currently deep inside her, and the fabric falls right down. It’s a simple shirt, one that Y/N rarely wore because it’s a simple black shirt, and she isn’t very fond of the color black or simple shirts like this one. 

She isn’t wearing a bra or bralette, and Richie immediately pulls her torso down towards him. Feel something, try to feel something. Does this make you feel anything? It sure does. The sight before him is so perverse, something straight out of a dirty magazine his father kept as a secret or even from a pornographic cassette. This girl is half-naked before him, squirming around his fingers, only a skirt and her knee-high socks on. Of course, her hair serves as a minimal cover over her shoulders, and it only adds to the effect on the guy between Richie’s legs.

His cock is barely kept inside his pants, threatening to rip out any moment. His hand reaches out to touch her breasts, and oh how gentle they are, oh how soft and welcoming they are. He’s going to go insane, if he hasn’t already, this girl is killing him. Such a treasure has been hiding behind a wall from him all this time.

“Richie…” comes a stranded whine from Y/N, and it’s a signal that she’s about to come. Richie’s head hangs back, going over the chair and he groans. Y/N leans towards him, cradling his neck in one hand, and she touches her forehead to his. She feels his hand growing lazier, barely even meeting the right spot in her anymore, and she reaches down to wrap her fingers around his wrist. 

She wipes his tears with the other hand while her own teardrops fall right down on Richie’s cheeks, while her hand is moving Richie’s fingers now in and out of her. She picks up the pace he lost and she soon comes. Her body goes rigid, shaking in small spasms as she screams and then gasps, once her fluids have washed all over Richie’s hand.

The young man almost comes himself, but he holds back. Cause he’s still in for a treat, and so is she. Y/N takes his fingers out of her and holds the hand in hers, careful not to swipe the remains of her orgasm off the hand. She lays a kiss on Richie’s lips, then another, a lingering one, and makes a trail down his face to his neck, from his neck to his chest, where she pulls his shirt over his head and throws it away. Her hands grip Richie’s sides, letting go of his hand, and she digs her thumbs past the borderline of his jeans. She soon unbuckles his belt, undoes the zipper and pulls Richie’s jeans off him.

He cannot contain himself, his sounds or his tears, and he fears he may come in his boxers at any given moment. “Look at me.” Y/N commands him in a whisper, and Richie does as he’s told, his clouded eyes looking down at her. Where he wished she would be only moments ago. She once again takes his hand between her fingers and guides it up to her mouth. Her head is just above his crotch when she slides Richie’s fingers between her lips. 

Richie moans upon the sight, sure that he’ll pass out, sure that this will be the cause of his death. She licks his fingers clean of her fluid, her tongue going back and forth around the three. Her lips suck on them as deep as when her lips touch his knuckles, and Richie’s chest heaves up and down erratically. His fingers are quite long, and he can’t imagine, he just can’t grasp the wonders that she’ll do if she’ll actually go down on him. 

Y/N moans around his fingers and closes her eyes, dirty things to say appearing one by one in her mind. If her mouth wasn’t so full, she’d say them all, but she’s also hesitant to. She finally draws Richie’s fingers from out of her mouth and lays a parting kiss on his digits before moving over to the big thing. She feels wetness pooling between her legs again as she watches her own hands peeling off Richie’s boxers, letting his cock stand tall in all its glory, the pre-cum dripping down the side. She almost licks her own lips, almost gulps. He’s very huge. 

Richie’s hand twists a lock of her hair between his fingers and he strokes her chin. “Please…” he begs, and Y/N leans into his hand, even laying a kiss on the inside of it, showing her obedience, you could say. She lays a gentle, no, a teasing lick upon his shaft, it goes right around the tip and drives Richie insane. He throws his head back and closes his eyes.

God, she blows him and she blows his mind. And he sobs. And tears keep falling, and Y/N takes him in her mouth, and—can he believe it?—she can fit all of him in. He sobs and he moans because it feels so good, she gives him such an escape from the pain. He still cries, and cries more because this is the best he’s ever felt. How? He’s in pain, he’s crying, he feels like there’s something missing. But this is so good… Focus on this, Rich, focus on just this now. Focus on her.

He does. Richie looks down at Y/N, her perfect lips around his cock moving slowly. She looks at him, her eyes so intense and focused. But Richie shakes his head. It’s too good, and he feels close to coming already. Y/N gives him questioning eyes, raising her eyebrows and stopping her movements, stopping her lips right below the tip. 

Richie shakes his head and wipes many of the fallen tears under his eyes. He leans down to Y/N and takes her face between his hands, and she lets go of his cock. She still looks at Richie, and the sight of her is similar to an angel’s. Eyes wide, lips parted and as red as her cheeks. Richie brings her up to his level, now standing up, and pushes her onto the table. Y/N holds Richie’s wrists again as he lays her down, their eye contact staying strong. Notes and book pages ruffle where her body touches them, but neither of them pay any mind to the sound or the small obstacles.

“I’m gonna take care of you, baby, stay still,” he tells her. Richie doesn’t know where this side of him is coming from, but it seems to work well on Y/N. She moves her knees closer to one another to squeeze her thighs together. Richie takes her underwear between his fingers from under her skirt and pulls it down her legs. The girl sighs out and her hands tighten into fists. She is a little impatient, but she also loves how ghost-like his fingers are on her skin, as if they’re afraid to touch, afraid to press too far in her skin. As if they weren’t, just minutes ago, deep inside of her and trying to go as deep as possible. 

When her underwear is off, a bit of tear-wiping between the process, Richie takes it between his teeth and takes a second to admire the sight before him. He runs a hand through his hair and adjusts his glasses, his chocolate eyes taking the purest form of hunger as he looks at Y/N. Her chest bare, her hands each laying on a side of her face, her eyes seemingly innocent, obedient to him. Now she’s only wearing her skirt and knee-highs, and Richie digs the outfit. He sniffles and wipes his tears one last time before he finds her entrance with the tip of his cock and pushes inside of her. There’s a grunt from him and a squeal from her, and Y/N seems to have come alive again.

Richie pants and leans over her, and more tears fall. They land on her tummy and her chest, as small as snowflakes and as warm as honey. Y/N leans on her elbows as best she can and even sits up, wrapping her arms and legs around Richie for support. He looks sort of questioningly into her eyes. Y/N takes the glasses off Richie’s face and puts them down on the desk. He involuntarily thrusts deeper into her, which makes her face go blank—god, he’s filled her up to the brim—but she reaches with her right hand to wipe some of the new tears that just keep on coming. Her fingers are gentle, and Richie leans into this soft touch, even closing his eyes. 

But he doesn’t stop, he keeps on slowly thrusting into Y/N, as slowly as he’s never done before, and he rests his head in the solace of Y/N’s neck curve. She still feels the tears there, wetting her skin and her hair, but at least he’s not sobbing or wheezing anymore, he’s moaning and he’s whimpering, and he’s whispering her name. She closes her eyes, loving the way he gives it to her, how good he’s with her. She hasn’t done like he told her to, but she wanted to be closer to him. Cause she sees that he needs it, he needs the closeness, the contact. 

“Richie…” she whispers his name over and over until the whispers become moans and moans become screams. She’s going to come again, her nails dig into Richie’s sides.

Richie’s hands dig holes into her hips, deeper than before. He bites into her shoulder, hungry for more of her. Is this not enough? How can this not be enough for you? What is still missing? They’ve become one in the past few moments, and yet the emptiness in Richie still stays. 

He grunts, more out of emotional pain than of physical struggle, and he grunts loudly when he gives Y/N the final thrusts. For a moment, Richie is worried that he won’t come or that he’ll come much later, after a bathroom visit, but his worries fade when he does come. They both come at the same time. Richie’s eyes close and his mouth hangs open, his head limp against Y/N’s neck. And she feels him coming inside of her, he fills her completely with his warmth. Richie, instead, almost loses his mind when she drips over his incredulous length. She’s still as warm and as welcoming and as silky as she was her in her first orgasm. 

As best she can, Y/N holds the back of his head with her hand and closes her own eyes then, tears streaming down her cheeks. All her senses were overstimulated, and she herself is overwhelmed, and shedding tears seems an appropriate response for her organism to give. She gives holding onto Richie her whole strength, hating the thought of laying against a cold desk surface when she has his warm embrace. 

Y/N turns Richie’s face to her own, and she instantly feels his breath on her face again. It’s shaky, it’s scared, Richie’s scared. What is he scared of? Y/N kisses his lips, and she kisses his cheeks, and she kisses his forehead. Richie looks exhausted, barely keeping his eyes open, he looks lost. And the tears still come. Can he not run out of them? Where are they coming from?

With a few struggles and Richie’s own helping hand, she pulls him out of her and they both exhale loudly. Y/N still holds him between her tender fingers and strokes the sides. Not to entice him again, but to somehow soothe him.

His eyes do close and his forehead leans against Y/N’s. She holds his cheek with her other hand and closes her eyes, too. This is the perfect moment to hold onto.

Later, when they’re both laying in Y/N’s room, on her mattress, under her pink sheets, Richie can’t seem to fall asleep. He watched her slowly lose consciousness while the moonlight washed on her bare body, her eyelids fluttering closed more frequently with each second and her breaths evening out. She had whispered “Happy birthday, Richie.” before her eyes had shut completely and her body had become limp next to Richie’s. He’d smiled and stroked the side of her face, still watching the angel who had just fallen asleep.

When it was a few hours till the morning light, Richie’s body shut down fully and he finally fell into a deep slumber. He couldn’t fall asleep for such a long time because he was still questioning the sudden tear fit of the evening. He couldn’t stop his mind from going back to the night’s events, either. He was surprised he didn’t sport a proper boner when he thought about it, but the memories did make his stomach throw little flips.

He couldn’t find the explanation after all. But it was simple. Thousands of miles away, a young man had finished a huge dinner his mom and her friends arranged for his twentieth birthday. He thought he was enjoying himself, but he only convinced himself he did. His mom and her friends had much more fun than he did, and truth be told, he never had fit in that group. He belonged to another group.

And there he was, sat at the end of the dinner table with a paper cone hat on top of his head, drinking some sort of punch and staring at his empty plate. Trying to remember what group did he belong to. Trying to find out what he’s missing, cause he feels like there’s a lot of people missing at his birthday table. It’s not the first birthday he feels like this, but this time the feeling is definitely stronger. Who isn’t here? Who didn’t mom invite tonight? 

Eddie Kaspbrak sits alone at his birthday table in New York city while Richie Tozier sheds tears of missing him in sunny California. Neither knew what was wrong or what this ache in their chests meant, but they were people with the same soul who lived their lives completely forgetting about one another. Lonely souls who couldn’t figure out what love is.

Is it sleeping with your college roommate when you’re sad? Is it laying next to her with eyes full of admiration? Is it letting a person completely control your life, only because it’s easier and you’re used to it? 

The world stays the same and so do the people around Richie and Eddie, while their lives and hearts are crumbling and they’re missing the first and only loves of their life. Nothing changes, the aches remain, the minds still search, the eyes still fill with tears. And they can’t help but fill the aching hole with the closest thing that’s also the easiest.


	13. Pretty Proud (4) - Richie Tozier/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill's sister was the only person that knew about Richie Tozier's secret, she's the only one he told it to. Years later, after reuniting, she remembers the secret and encourages Richie to be with the person he's meant to be with.

“Hey, uh, Brooke Shields–” Richie started to say. Y/N lifted her head to him, a little carelessly, but ready to listen to whatever he’s got to say. “Sorry, Y/N.” He added then, and Y/N smiles, her eyes closing. They were alone in the Denbrough kitchen. Bill, Eddie and Stanley were cleaning the rest of the house while Richie was put on kitchen duty. The boys had had a sleepover, in which Y/N also participated in, and Bill had already made them promise they’d help him with cleaning everything up afterwards. And Y/N had wandered into the kitchen while Richie was still there.

“I don’t mind. I kinda like the nickname.” Y/N shrugged. “Something you wanted to say?”

“Yeah, uh… “ Richie looked down. “No, nevermind, I shouldn’t.”

Y/N walked over to Richie and put her hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. You can… You can trust me. What’s wrong?”

“I know we’re not the best of friends, I don’t know if I should.” The boy says. “I mean, I just… It’s not right - what I want to say, I…”

Y/N sat the boy down at the kitchen counter and then took a seat next to him. She leaned her back against the counter so she’d be facing Richie. “Take your time. We’ve got plenty.” She told him and patiently waited.

“I just… Just promise me you won’t tell anyone. Anyone at all.” Richie looked into her eyes very strongly. Y/N nodded, but furrowed her eyebrows. She’s a little wary of what he wanted to say. 

“I won’t tell anyone.” 

“Okay, uh…” Richie looked down again and sighs. He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it. “Jeez, I’m such a pussy, I can’t even say words.”

“Richie, it’s okay. You can relax around me, I’m not judging.” Y/N assured him. “Tell me.” She said softer.

“Well, alright, I’ll do my best. God, I never say such things.” Richie breathed in sharply. “Um, okay. Okay, I… I think I might have… I might like, I definitely might like Eddie.” He finally said, his voice quieter than before, and felt like a horribly heavy stone had fallen off his heart. He breathed deeply, remembering that he can actually breathe, and for a moment Y/N even thought he’d be having an asthma attack. 

“You like him?” Y/N echoed quietly. Richie nodded, but hesitantly and shamefully, and he took off his glasses. He put them down on the counter in front of him. Richie rubbed his eyes. “Hey, hey, don’t you cry.” Y/N’s hand was once again on Richie’s shoulder and she moved her thumb back and forth to give him some sort of soothe. “It’s okay to have feelings. It’s okay.” Richie sighed shakily. “For how long do you think you’ve liked him?” 

“I don’t–I don’t know exactly.” Richie said. “Is it really okay? I mean I'm… I’ve never met someone… I don’t even know if I am…”

“Richie, it is okay.” Y/N said. “It’s totally human. We love who we love. And there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s love.” She shrugged. “Does anyone else know?”

“No!” Richie almost shouted, contradictory to his rule about keeping his voice down. Y/N visibly tensed up at his outburst. “Sorry. No, nobody else knows. I’m scared for anyone to know.”

“Wouldn’t you want to trust Stanley with this? He’s your best friend. If you don’t wanna tell Eddie, which I understand very well.” 

“I don’t know… That’s true, yeah, but… I don’t know. He might look at me different. And you might.”

“Well, I don’t.” Y/N stated confidently. “You’re still the same Richie.” She told him. 

“Thanks.” Richie said. “How do you have so much wisdom at fifteen-years-old? You’re some sort of witch… Y/N the Wise.”

Y/N laughed. “Thanks, Richie.” There’s a pause. “Don’t be ashamed of your feelings, alright? It’s harder to do than to say, but… They’re normal feelings. You’re not a freak or anything.”

Richie nodded and sniffed. He put his glasses back on and he turned his head to the kitchen entrance door. Someone had just entered through it.

“Hey, Rich, did you clean everything yet? We’re thinking of going to the Arcade.” It was Eddie. “Oh, hey, Y/N.”

Y/N remembers very well how scared, but in awe Richie looked at that moment. His eyes had fallen on the first and only love of his life. And for a moment, the Trashmouth was silent. He took a long look upon Eddie before becoming his usual self again.

She looks at the boy now grown up into a man. All boys and Beverly still look like kids in Y/N’s eyes, it’s so strange to see them again. Bill she had met frequently during this twenty-seven years period, but her brother doesn’t carry any significant change in appearance or otherwise.

It’s truly strange to see Bill’s friends grown up. Y/N can barely believe her eyes. And she wonders where’s Stanley. Is he late? Is he not coming? Has something happened to him along the way? But she tries to keep these questions out of her mind, figuring they worry her too much and keep her away from the people actualy present.

Richie looks the same, she could say. He’s just… Ah, but he’s different. Seems like this contradiction fits all the Losers. Richie’s still his old self, and Y/N’s glad he hasn’t changed. She’s sitting between him and Eddie, and at first she thought it’d be torture, but it’s funny sitting between the two. They still bicker, they still cuss at each other, but they still joke around, as well. That’s what makes sitting between them so fun. 

And when she remembers her and Richie’s conversation in the Denbrough kitchen all those years ago, she suddenly feels strange sitting between Richie and his first crush. And she feels so much love and support for Richie, just like she did when they were kids. She’s so proud of him. He’s grown up well and has made a name for himself, and he’s still the same Richie. The same funny, but deeply caring Richie Tozier she remembers knowing as one of her brother’s friends. The boy who always gave everyone nicknames and covered his anxieties with comedy. 

Richie notices her looking at him longingly and glances at her. “What is it, Shields?” Richie asks and Y/N laughs, holding her belly. She shakes her head, still giggling, and only smiles fondly at Richie. He has once again used the nickname he gave her as a teenager. It’s a reference to her extreme resemblance to the actress Brooke Shields. Every teenage boy in the 1980’s loved her and wished to have a girl like her in their arms, including, for a while, Richie and his friends.

“I only remembered something.” She says and reaches for her beer. 

“What? About what?”

“Your mom.”

The Losers burst into laughter when Trashmouth gets silenced by Y/N using his own joke, the loudest one being Eddie. Someone’s got back at Trashmouth finally! Richie instead sits at the table trying to suppress his smile. The alcohol makes him a little sheepish. Richie’s proud that Y/N’s outdone him, but he’s embarrassed, too, and won’t admit it. He feels embarrassment for one of the few times in his life. 

“Oh man, Shields, I thought I could trust you.” Richie states, shaking his head, which only makes Y/N laugh harder. “You traitor.”

“You’ll get back at me in no time, I bet.” She replies and pats Richie’s shoulder. This gesture brings back a forgotten memory to Richie. A forgotten, or perhaps, gladly hidden away conversation he had with Y/N a long time ago. Or maybe it’s just a made-up dream. No, it feels like a memory. Just like the one where he and Big Bill went to the house on Neibolt Street. Or Henry Bowers calling him Trashmouth. 

Richie suddenly looks away from her and instead glances at Eddie sitting next to her. But he looks at the man for only half a second. He fears that looking at him will somehow expose Richie. He can’t explain this feeling, but it’s strong enough to make him stare into table in front of him, and not at any of his friends.

The dinner came to a close soon, a terror thrown by a row of fortune cookies being the closing act and scaring the bejesus out of everyone for the rest of the evening. And the mystery that came out of the little papers ate away at Y/N’s mind. Though she wants to stay focused on it and listen to what Beverly can get from calling Stanley himself, she also wants to speak to Richie. To both take her mind off the worries and to remind him of something. 

“Hey, Rich,” she tugs on his arm and Richie immediately turns around to her, stopping in his tracks. Eddie turns for a second, as well, wondering what’s the matter, but soon joins the others going outside, leaving Y/N and Richie in the lobby.

“Yeah?” Richie asks, seemingly clueless about what Y/N could want to say. Something about Stanley? Does she know if anything’s happened?

But Y/N only embraces him. Well, she does her best to embrace the six foot tall Richie while being not so tall herself. He furrows his eyebrows at the gesture, but he wraps his arms around her in response and lets his head fall on her shoulder. Even if his face is still scrunched in confusion and his mind wanders to all the possibilities that could have led to this hug. 

“I saw the look in your eyes at the table.” She tells him, and she even laughs, relieved. A proud tear escapes her eyes. “You still like him, don’t you?” Y/N then pulls back to see the certainty in Richie’s eyes. He turns his head slightly, not catching onto her at first. But then he gets it, and he understands the memory that came back earlier better.

“Eddie?” He whispers and quickly glances over his shoulder to see if the mentioned person is anywhere near them. He’s standing outside and waving at Richie and Y/N, waving them over to the rest of the group. Richie huffs and looks back at Y/N. “It’s so weird, Y/N, that… That I feel everything coming back so suddenly. Eddie, you guys, my whole childhood… And…”

“And the feeling’s strong, right?” Y/N finishes, and Richie nods. She smiles wide, another proud tear making its way out on her cheek. “God, Richie, it’s so wonderful. You should… Maybe you should finally tell him.”

To this Richie’s face twists in the opposite feeling of pleasure, and he wants to shake his head. But then he thinks, hey, maybe I should. No. No way. He probably doesn’t even–

“Come on, take the risk.” Y/N whispers and nods. “Who knows how many of us are coming out of this alive? What can you lose?”

“Y/N, I could lose everything. My whole childhood with him, and my best friend with that. I don’t know what he’d tell me back!” Richie panics. “If he’d have anything to say…”

Y/N realises it’s not so easy for Richie, after all. It’s not easy at all. She sighs quietly. “I don’t want to push it on you, but you know… The feelings are true, Richie.” She states. “And they’re beautiful feelings. I hope you don’t feel ashamed by them.”

Richie huffs again and looks around for a brief moment, panic in his eyes still, but calmer now. “It’s really hard not to.” He tells her. “God, I remember how I told you… Only you. No one else knows, right?” Y/N shakes her head. “Oh, God, okay, good.” Richie breathes deeply.

“Was I really the only one you told?”

Richie nods. “Yes.” He pauses. “Thank you.” He tells her and pulls her small form into another hug, and his strong hold almost crushes her bones. But Y/N loves this hug, she loves the feeling she’s now getting from Richie. “Thank you for that. For everything, really. You always had the right words to say.” 

“Maybe we are best friends, after all.” Y/N tells him and chuckles. Richie gives a shakier chuckle in response.

“Don’t you underestimate that, Shields, we’re definitely best friends.” He pulls back from her and then turns towards the door. Y/N smiles so proudly at Richie, feeling as though she might burst from pride. “Let’s go outside and get the hell out of here.” Richie suggests. Y/N nods, though hesitantly, wanting to see what her brother thinks in terms of leaving or staying before she makes up her own mind, but follows Richie out the door anyway.

Their friends seem to be in a sort-of shocked stance, all of them, and when Richie and Y/N see their friends, it confuses and scares them. What has happened?

“Guys, why the long faces?” Richie asks, and Y/N chuckles at the humorous question. Beverly turns to the smiling Y/N, and so do the rest of her friends.

They know what kind of impact the news they’ve got will have on Y/N, and they feel so sorry for her. They hesitate to talk. They hesitate because none of them really want to hurt her. She would never live through it, Ben thinks, but Bill, instead, is sure of it. He knows his sister like the back of his hand. The news will kill her. He probably holds the most concern in his eyes when he looks at her, deeply wishing she wouldn’t have to face this terrible truth.

And maybe it’s some sort of sibling connection, maybe not, but Y/N looks at Bill first. “What’s happened?” She asks carefully, scared of what she will get in response.

Bill gulps and glances at Beverly. They’re asking each other who will be the bearer of bad news. Bill huffs. And his eyes tell Beverly that he can’t do it. So Beverly looks down for a moment, readying herself for what she will say and how Y/N could react, and then looks straight into Y/N’s eyes. She looks at Bev then, wondering what’s that strange look on her face. As if she’d seen a ghost, or looked straight into death’s pitless eyes.

“Honey, Stanley's…” Beverly gulps, “Stanley’s dead.”


	14. Obstacles - Bill Denbrough/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader's fear is clowns and the circus. On the Losers' Club first journey into Neibolt House, Bill helps her through the rising panic attack.  
> Warnings: fear, panic attack, horrors.

“I’ll put a happy smile on your face, Y/N!” A clown with bright green hair and crimson lips and eyes grins at the girl who’s simply paralysed in the corner of the room. It’s filled with toys and creatures that are supposed to resemble the iconic faces that represent the circus, and they very well do. They affect Y/N horribly, since the girl’s worst fear is clowns.

Strange, you’d think, that she’d be afraid of something that is supposed to bring children joy, cheer them up at fairs, at birthday parties and on McDonald’s special occasions. Hand them balloons and promise cotton candy on a stick or popcorn in a bright red box. 

Y/N isn’t sure when or how she started fearing clowns. All she knows is that seeing one makes her freeze. She can’t move, she can’t make a sound, she can’t escape. And when there’s a room crawling with her worst fear, she almost goes into cardiac arrest. That would be the worst thing that could happen, and she’s nearing its happening.

Bill and Richie are trying to break through the door of the clown room. She wonders where they are, she wonders why they’ve not entered the room yet. But she can’t voice it. She can’t scream, she can’t even cry or whimper. Her throat is dry as the desert, begging for any sign of water.

Bill stomps on the door with his foot, and Richie does, too. The door only squeaks and bends in a little, the boys groan, and go against it again. They’re using the most force they can muster up. Bill might be bad at talking, but he’s a strong boy. He’ll do anything to save Y/N, he’ll gain as much courage and strength as he’d need to. 

“Why the long face?” A clown snickers. Gloved hands reach out to Y/N hungrily, and she’s about to run out of space to crawl into. How did she even get into this room? How did she get separated from her friends? From Bill? Why did she ever agree to go into Neibolt house? Why are they all here?

Horrible fear fogs her mind. It only has one instinct - get out of this room. Forget anything about standing up to and beating the creature that’s been tormenting her friends. Y/N needs to get out of here, she needs to be home, she needs to be safe. She can’t care about anything else.

Finally, the door busts open and the boys stare into a room that is filled with old fallen-over manekens. They look for Y/N, and she’s to their left. Crouched down on the floor, her knees pulled to her chest. Her hands are by her sides, cramping up, and her face… The complete look of shock terrifies both Richie and Bill. 

Bill’s the first to run over to her. His knees scrape the wooden floor when he gets down on them, there’ll be bruises on the knees later. Bill takes Y/N’s hands in his, gently untwisting her fingers from the crampy position they were in, and he holds her hands between his own. 

“Y-Y/N.” Bill calls to her, and her wide eyes look at him. “It’s okay, you’re–you’re okay.” He tries to soothe her desperately. 

“Bill, man, we have to get out of here. Now.” Richie insists, even stomps his foot down on the wooden floor. Y/N doesn’t even move, she’s in shock. Bill looks at Richie, then at Y/N. 

“Then hel-help me get her uh-up.” Bill urges and Richie takes the few steps over to Bill to help him. The two boys grip their friend’s arms and sides to get her standing on her feet and, with all their might and strength, carry her out of the maneken room.

When they’ve taken a single step past the doorframe, it’s as if a damb broke loose. A damb of tears, a damb of fear. Of everything Y/N felt. 

She collapses downwards, but Bill is there to prevent that from happening. Her sobs are as loud as screams. Bill holds the poor girl in his arms, supporting her crying form with his arms. Richie’s let go of her, wanting to quicker get out of Neibolt, for which Bill can’t blame him, but still sends a nasty glare. 

“I’ll lead the way.” Richie tells him and walks ahead of the two.

“Y/N. Br-breathe with me.” Bill tries to get through her sobbing and crying. “One… Two… C-Count with muh-me… One…”

“One…” Comes a soft whisper from Y/N.

“Two.” Bill continues. They walk behind Richie, but slower, and he already feels that Y/N’s breathing is calming down. 

“Two…” She repeats. 

“Three.”

“Three…” Y/N says, takes a breath and sighs deeply. It’s shaky at first, but the sigh is what she needed. She has cried everything out, now she breathes it all out. “I wanna go home.” She tells Bill, and sniffs. 

“We-we’re leaving, Y/N.” Bill responds. “We’re leaving right—right now.” He confirms. “We need—need to walk fuh-faster.” He informs her and Y/N nods. 

“I thought I was gonna die in there.” She admits to him as they pick up their pace. And Y/N can walk on her own now, she’s regained most of her strength. 

“You—you saw c-clowns, right?” Bill cautiously asks. Y/N can only nod. 

“Mm-hm.” She hums. “So fucking many of them… I can’t ever… I don’t want to…” She doesn’t know what to finish her sentence with. Bill takes her hand in his tightly. Y/N looks at him, fear still present in her eyes. 

“I won’t ever leave you again.” He promises her, and Y/N has to raise her eyebrows. The boy didn’t stutter. “You—You won’t have to buh-be scared. If I'm—if I’m there, with you.” Bill promises her once more.

A tear rolls down Y/N’s cheek, but it’s a good tear. A tear that says thank you. She nods, and they look away, choosing to look ahead of them instead, to where they’re actually going.

“Eddie!” Comes the strangled cry from Richie. Next obstacle, Bill and Y/N conclude, and they run to their friend together.


	15. Artist's Hand - Bill Denbrough/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill Denbrough and Reader share a secret - they are each other's muse and are all over the other's notebooks, sketch books and school books. After a class, Reader doesn't notice a page of Bill's portrait falling out of her notebook, but Bill picks it up and carries it back to her. Both are quite embarrassed, but they confess and share their art with each other.

Page upon page upon page. They’re bound to fall out from between her many lined notebook pages one day, and she knows it, but she pushes the thought aside. Secretly she hopes it’ll happen at home, but then again, maybe the boy she’s been drawing will be there when the pages fall. No, that’d be far too embarrassing. He must never know she’s drawing him! Much less on so many pages, so frequent and so many. He must never find out.

Boys think obsession weird, Y/N has noticed that around school. And the boy is an easy-going person, someone who doesn’t see a point in a fuss and is, over all, emotionally calm. So she has noticed, though it may be far from the actual truth. And she assumes Bill doesn’t like what you’d call “obsessions”. Maybe he doesn’t see them that way, maybe he’s a kind guy (he sure is) and maybe he’d just shrug, smile and say “that’s alright”. In the case if he ever finds her little portraits of him.

But that’s only a fairy-tale. A day-dream that makes the fictional Bill Denbrough in Y/N’s mind even more perfect. But how perfect could a boy get? His eyes are bright and wide, always eagerly reading the teacher’s words written on the board and watching her as she talks about authors or historical events. His lips are mostly in a slight pout, even more so since his brother went missing. But Y/N’s decided it’s a pout he draws in concentration when he’s moving his pencil or pen over notebook pages. He’s probably writing another one of his good stories the English teacher praises him for. That’s her favorite pose to draw him in.

She could never guess that the boy she studies and draws every day is doing the exact same. She could only allow the thought when she’s day-dreaming on the bus home or in the lunch hall, otherwise the thought is scandalous. Even if it would be true, it’d still be outrageous. He couldn’t find a girl like her in the muse position, he wouldn’t draw her all over his pages. She doesn’t even know if he draws at all.

But he does. And her portraits cover much more than the empty corners of his notebook pages. Bill’s got several sketchbooks, and she has managed to take up a whole one of them. Even Bill hadn’t noticed that. Until a Sunday room-cleaning occurrence had he flicked through all his notepads and seen only the portraits of the girl from school. To anyone else she seems a regular girl, just one of the many girls at Derry High. But to Bill she is everything but.

She’s the sun on a rainy day. She’s the rose among the spikes and poisonous weeds who are also known as most girls in Derry High. She’s got the smile that could heal the deepest wounds, hand that could birth life in them. She’s the most beautiful girl in the world.

And he puts this beauty down on paper as best he can, he tries to get better with each little portrait. There seems to be a technical flaw in each of his drawings of her, and Bill tries to get rid of it with every next drawing. Whether it’s her nose out of proportion, over done shading or too apparent outlines or any other mistake. To a person without a pedantic artist’s eyes the portraits would still be beautiful, they’d gasp and applaud Bill. But he can’t call them finished or good while the mistakes are still present. Bill’s a clear perfectionist under his own and other pressures.

English has finally ended and Y/N is pushing her drawing pages back between the ones of her notebook. Other people are passing by her desk, and they should never see her secret passion and secret crush. Anyone would tell the whole school or make fun of her for it. Then Bill would find out and it’d just be a disaster. So her hands are quick to push the drawings under the notepad covers and push these notepads in her bag. She takes a quick look at Bill Denbrough before she exits the class, seeing that he’s the last one, right after her, to leave. She feels a little excitement in her belly, like butterflies, but quickly turns around and walks out in the hallway.

Bill, however, is a little delayed to walking out when he notices a slip of paper laying on the floor. Looks like it dropped very recently, as if from someone’s hands or pocket. He picks it up and turns it around to make sure it’s nothing valuable so he can be a good citizen and throw it out. But he doesn’t. What he sees on the other side grasps his attention like a hungry crow grabs a piece of bread.

It’s me.

That’s what he thinks first. Then, he notices much more than a portrait of himself. It’s a pose you’d see him taking if you were looking from his right side, and in front of him. If it was drawn in this classroom, the artist must have sat in the front row. And who sits in the front row by the door?

He doesn’t even need to look at the bottom of the drawing for the artist’s signature to find out their name. It’s Y/N. It’s from right where she sits and has always sat in English. And apparently, she’s drawn him and she’s drawn him like a pro. Bill feels as though he’s seeing himself from the side, or looking into a mirror. That’s how precise the portrait is.

And there are hearts surrounding the portrait, and even making a frame in the piece of paper, and there are clouds and there are stars. It’s a beautiful design. Even his name is written with a heart at the end. How cute.

Oh, shoot. She’s probably looking for this drawing. And it’s not actually polite to look at someone’s art without permission. But does this mean she… Could she… Could she really like him the way he likes her? In a cherished, adoring way that he does? In the sort of way that she looks at him like her muse? Could that be?

Bill holds the drawing between his fingers tightly, but carefully, not to crumple or tear it, that way ruining it, and he runs out in the hallway and down it. He can still see her colored boots and tights in the long hallway, and he jogs after her as quick as he can.

“Y/N!” He calls out, and sees that the colorful smidge stops and turns around. Bill catches up to her and huffs once he’s stopped. Derry and its high school may be small, but the hallways sure are long and exhausting to walk down.

Y/N blushes the second his eyes fall on her and her hands start to sweat. “Bill.” She says quietly, as best as she can while her actual crush is looking at her. Y/N finally looks into his eyes and she sees universes and stars travelling in them already, and she’s taken away.

“You–you lost this.” Bill hands her the found portrait, quickly neating out the corners. Y/N glances down at it and she gasps, immediately taking the drawing in her hand and pushing it behind her back.

“Where’d you get it?” She asks in a panicked whisper. Oh, God, oh, God, oh God. He knows, he definitely knows. She’s embarrassed herself. How did I not notice this falling out? Did I not put it in? Did I actually drop it? What would have happened if someone else had picked it up? Someone mean?

“I f-found it on the floor. In the cluh-classroom.” Bill says, and he sees the fearful look on her face, the look “I’m caught” in her eyes and the deep red blush in her cheeks. “B-But… B-But do you muh-mean this? Is this real? Is it a juh-joke?”

Y/N sees that Bill’s eyes are sincere, and he’s not angry in the slightest. Most boys would be… “It’s not a joke.” She only mutters quietly. “But it’s embarrassing… You shouldn’t have seen that.” The girl looks down, the deep blush spreading onto her whole face.

Bill hears her words and take them for the truth, as he should. He takes off his back pack and takes out his own sketchbook, and he hands it to Y/N. “I-I guess it’s about tuh-time you see this, then.” He says. Y/N glances at him warily, but takes the dark-covered sketchbook from him and opens it. She flips through the pages quickly until she notices what the sketchbook’s contents actually are. They’re drawings of her.

She stops at some pages, flicking through slower, and notices they’re all mostly from where he sits in English. Sometimes from his seat in History, Biology, Art. And some other angles which could only be… Lunchtime.

And the drawings are all so perfect. In most, he’s chosen the red and pink palette to color the portraits with, added hearts, flowers and other shapes. She’s stopped breathing, it seems, and Bill is still patiently waiting. He studies her face like he always does, and watches her petite fingers slipping over the slim white pages.

“These are very beautiful.” She says finally. Her voice is quiet. Bill smiles, relieved and suddenly excited.

“Th-thanks. I have more.” He says and his smile drops. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Y/N eyes him carefully, puzzled, but then smiles faintly.

“I’d love to see.” She admits. She closes the sketchbook and hands it back to Bill. “I have more, too.” Y/N looks down once again, feeling embarrassed to admit such a thing. Silence falls between the two head-over-heels in love teenagers. Bill sighs, deciding to tell her what his heart is dying to get out. If not now, when?

It’s the perfect moment. They’re alone. She’s seen his art and he’s seen hers. “Yuh-you know, I really like you, Y/N.” He says and dares to look at her. “That’s why I’ve b-been drawing you. Well, not only tha-that, I think you’re really beautiful, and you have facial fuh-features perfectly made for draw-drawing.”

Y/N smiles wide, and the muscles she pulls seem to fall into place and stay in that smile for a long time. “Thanks a lot, Bill.” She says first. “I–I like you too, a lot.” She gives him her own confession and blushes deeply once again. “I have for a long time.” She says then, quieter.

“C-Can I see more of your art?” Bill asks. “M-Maybe at the park? If you’re–if you’re free?” He suggests. Y/N still smiles.

“Sure, Bill. Let’s go.” She agrees, nodding. Bill smiles back, happy as ever that she’s agreed, and puts his sketchbook back in his backpack. He gets all the courage he has and takes Y/N’s hand when they walk side by side on their way out of the school building.

She gives him the evergreen smile she wears like a charm and squeezes his hand in response. Bill can’t wait to draw this smile in his sketchbook. He can’t wait to draw her on the park bench as sun rays shine down on her. Bill also can’t wait to see her drawings, and he feels butterflies in his stomach from the thought only. Y/N does, too.


	16. Mirror Tricks - Ben Hanscom/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader is part of the Losers Club. She and Ben Hanscom are married, and are expecting a baby. Unfortunately, Mike Hanlon calls them back to Derry, and that brings fresh horrors to the Hanscom couple.  
> Warnings: terror, cutting, blood, anxiety.

“What is happening?!” Mike yells, rising the panic higher in all four of them. Y/N, Bev and Mike are holding Ben tightly as he screams. The 'H’ on the bottom of his chest that Y/N knows well after many years of marriage is being re-carved, and she’s watching as other letters join after the 'H’ on his skin.

Y/N looks away, the sight being too horrid for her to face, and instead she looks at Ben himself. Her hand grips both his cheeks and she turns his face to her. “Baby, it’s not real, it’s not real.” She tells him, shaking her head. “It’s not real. Look at me.” Ben’s frantic eyes look at Y/N. His eyes are blown wide open and tears aren’t even gathering. No matter what the pain, Ben’s always been tough and keeping strong. He rarely cries. Until now when he sees Y/N’s face twist completely. An expression he’s never seen on her before. 

“Baby…” Ben manages to squeak. He feels Y/N’s hands falling off him as she doubles over and almost falls over. Beverly has let go of Ben, she’s walking over to the mirror. Mike thinks, she’s figured it out, but he attends to the fallen Y/N. There’s blood appearing on her shirt, and when Ben catches sight of that, he screams louder in agony. “NO!” 

Having recently, actually just two weeks before Mike’s call, gotten the news of Y/N being pregnant, Ben couldn’t feel more happier. But this attack is so sudden and so shocking and in absolutely no way preventable that he can’t help but feel dread when he remembers that his darling wife is pregnant with his baby. He would reach out and hold her and help her in a way, but Ben can’t. His body is paralised by pain. 

She’s twisting and turning, and she’s crying and screaming. Feels like someone is directly carving something into her stomach, maybe a word, too, maybe two. She’d think about how scared and freaked out it makes her feel, but she physically can’t. Though Y/N can’t stop her concern for her baby, and she tries to get whoever’s doing it to her off. Y/N waves her hands around, she tries to push the phantom off her. But there’s no one she can actually push off.

Ben’s screaming her name, he doesn’t know what for, but he can’t stop. If he dies like this, she will be his last thought. If he truly is killed by IT, Y/N will be the last thing on his mind and he won’t let it be any other way. Y/N, on the other hand, can’t think of anything now. Her pain and terror have completely silenced every thought and decision in her mind.

But it all comes to a stop. With a yell of determination, Beverly smashes the metal spike into the mirror. The shards of glass fall down onto her, and she drops the spike to shield herself from the glass rain. But the pain is gone, the assault on both Ben’s and Y/N’s stomachs stops immediately. Once Ben realises it, he scrambles to his feet to check on his wife.

“Y/N, baby…” he’d want to say something else, but he can’t find the exact words that would fit. There’s no blood on her shirt, and she’s not twisting in pain anymore, she’s only crying. Out of shock, out of fear, out of panic. Ben sits down next to her and pulls her in his arms. 

“Ben…” she chants his name like a prayer. She’s relieved the pain is gone and she’s more than glad to be in Ben’s arms. More than anything, she’s glad to be safe, and hopes to any higher power that her baby is, too. 

Beverly and Mike hear screams coming from the kitchen, and they immediately rush in its direction. They’ve assumed that Ben and Y/N are running right after them, thinking it’s self-explanatory, but they don’t. The couple stay on the floor in the living room, crying to each other.

“Does anything hurt? Do you feel any different? Does… Does your…” Ben tries to ask her, but Y/N only cries. 

She does calm down eventually, realising she’s okay, realising that she’s safe. For now, at least. “Ben, I thought… I thought I’d lose–”

“No, no, don’t you say that.” Ben shakes his head and turns Y/N’s face to him. “We’re all fine, we’re okay.”

“But, baby, I don’t know–”

“We’ll get to a hospital immediately after everything’s done.” Ben soother her. He places a loving kiss to her forehead, and they both close their eyes. “But if you feel anything weird, anything at all, you tell me.” He begs Y/N, caressing her hair and looking into her eyes. Y/N nods and her head falls against Ben’s chest. 

“I love you.” She tells him. 

“I love you, too, baby. More than anything.” Ben responds and they hold onto each other tighter. “Can you stand? We have to join the others.” 

“I think so.” Y/N says and the couple rise to their feet as quick and smooth as they can. Ben’s still holding his wife’s forearms, giving her support, as they stand up. When she’s on her feet, with Ben long in that position already, Y/N looks at him surely and nods. “I can stand.” 

Ben nods and then takes her hand in his, they both get on their way towards the kitchen. Y/N’s hand curiously and carefully, almost hesitantly, travels down to the pit of her stomach. She’s only two and a half weeks in, but she thinks she can already feel the little pea that would soon be a little baby inside her womb. For mothers it’s only natural that they feel the child growing in them from the first second they realise they’re pregnant. And Y/N is no different. She’s already protective of her child now, and dare IT do anything to harm this little organism, she’d just didn’t know what to do.


	17. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie Tozier x Reader
> 
> A/N: Hello! I’ve had this idea saved in my drafts for a long time, so I decided today I wanna write it. I want to write something complicated, haha. I put my feelings into this one, so please be gentle, I’m going through some things and urm, yeah. I like to write when my heart hurts a little. This is a bit sad, but happy reading!
> 
> Ages: last year of high school, so 19-20?

She had noticed a few strangenesses. Those that had appeared with time, not all of a sudden, and she didn’t have a point where she could have caught their start and find out, perhaps, the reason. They were strangenesses in Richie and in Richie's… well, Richie’s looks, his touches, the frequency of his words and sayings. It’s not like he was another person because of some secret reason, but he was just… Richie looked like he was thinking more than he usually does, contemplating something in that thick head of his, questioning something.

His fingers, his hands, if they were on her thigh or waist or shoulder, were softly fidgeting against one another. He was picking at the skin around his nails, or simply moving his fingers against one another. Or Richie was gently massaging her skin that his hand touched in that occasion, which he rarely did before. 

Richie’s eyes were barely looking straight into someone’s, much less yours. He’d either look at his hands or some other part of the person than their eyes, or somewhere past them, sometimes his own feet. At first she thought he was embarrassed about something, or shy–but Richie was never those things. She’d thought about asking him what’s that about, but when it happened again and again, and again, she somehow kept quiet. 

He talked much less. Whether it was at school, lunch, a get-together with all eight of them, was it alone at her or his place, in the car. He was talking much less than usual. She assumed something must have happened or something, and that he’d break down and tell her, or simply blurt whatever it was out. But he never did, and by the look in his eyes when he looked at her or when he looked at others, she realised what had actually happened. She only didn’t know when it happened.

“When did you fall out of love with me?” Her question came up when she asked Richie what’s been wrong for a while. He’d told her there’s nothing going on, nothing’s happened, but there was lying in his eyes, she could see that so clearly. 

“What?” Richie asked. Not angrily, as if he’d been accused, but softly, curiously. It’s an absurd thing to think about even, fall out of love with her? Never in his short lifetime would Richie think he’d be capable of that. She’s everything. As well as smart, and she notices details.

“Richie, I… I mean, I don’t know. Maybe not,” she started again, “but all the things I said… The look in your eyes when you say you love me, or when someone asks about me, or about us… I mean, I just want you to be honest. I’m not closed off to any weird or real possibilities, I want to know. When did you fall out of love with me?”

It killed her to ask this question. They’ve been in love with each other for years, and he means everything to her. Their summers together, cycling dates, listening to records together… Everything they’ve done together is golden memories to her. So asking this question feels like shooting that free, ever-flying bird that is their love.

Richie huffed. He did love her, and he was in love with her. That’s not a lie. It’s hard to explain what’s going on, actually, as he’d begun to question himself as a person and can’t seem to find a real, true answer to anything. “I’ve been spending time with Eddie.” He said to her finally, trying at least, to start with the simple truth he’s not yet told her. “Alone. Just me and him.” Richie continued. She tensed up, quite visibly. So Richie’s hand reaches over to touch her forearm. Perhaps his touch will soothe her. And he finally looks into her eyes, and strongly at that. 

“Okay…” She said, still waiting for more to be said. Cause of right now, she cannot guess anything from what Richie’s said. He gulped. 

“I’ve realised that I like him. I love him.” Richie said ever so quietly. He was embarrassed now, and he was afraid of her reaction. Hell, she could do anything, he’s not told anyone else this, and he couldn’t imagine what goes through people’s heads when you tell them something like this. His fancy of Eddie is no regular thing nowadays, much less a thing made common in society. “As in… romantically.” Richie finished and looked down, shame on his whole face, growing like a quick tumor. 

“Uh…” her mouth sort of hung open, you could say that from shock. It’s not really the right word, but the nearest to. She looked away from him, but then looked right back. “Well-well my question, uh, my question still stands.” She told him, looking dearly into Richie’s eyes. “When did you fall out of love with me?” She whispered. Their faces were so close to each other, as they always were when the two were having intimate, private conversations. 

“I didn’t.” He promised her. She wanted to shake her head, say ‘that’s not possible’. But she didn’t know, so how could she say? She had no right. Richie shook his head instead, for effect, for proof, holding her eyes in contact with his strongly still. “I’ve always been in love with you. And I always will.” I think, he wants to add, but doesn’t. It won’t do her any good. “I love Eddie, too. I love him just like I love you. Well, not exactly, no, but… I phrased it wrong.” Richie shook his head again, averted his eyes to a place behind her shoulder and tried to think of the right words. “I love him as much and as deep as I love you.” 

She sighed heavily, breathily. She was nearing a panic attack, and she bet that Richie could tell for her quickening breathing and panicked eyes, but she didn’t want to admit it. She looked down and took her hand away from his touch, not because she didn’t trust him anymore, not because she didn’t want to be with him, no. But because she just needed to be away from him for a little moment, to make her mind up without his warm hand touching her, her body, her heart or her mind. 

“Can you even love two people at the same time? That much? As much as you’ve promised you love me?” She asked him and looked up at him again. “Well, I don’t think I can, so I just… I don’t know. Guess your heart is different from mine.” She said, a little more coldly sounding to Richie than he would have liked. He almost flinched, as if her words were the coldest snowflakes blowing into his face. 

“I’m sure that I can. And maybe that’s just me.” He said earnestly. “I know what I’m feeling, you know I’m very aware of my feelings.” She nodded. “I love you both the same.” Richie assured her again.

“Yeah, but what do you want to do with that?” She asked. The puzzled look in Richie’s eyes made her investigate more. “We, the two of us, are together, so what do you want?” She continued. “Do you still want to be with me or do you want to break up and be with Eddie? I… I don’t know, I don’t see any other way.”

Richie huffed. This he had only thought of, but had not decided or elaborated on. This he had contemplated, but only that. What did he want? Was it her? Was it Eddie? “What if… No, not what if.” He started and stopped himself. Today is his worst day of choosing words. “I want you both. I want to be with you both.”

“Richie, that is outrageous!” She almost scolded him, but tried her best not to, for the young man was already exposed and scared. “Things… Don’t work that way. You can’t be with two people at the same time.” She said then, softer. 

Richie stared blankly into the sofa they both sat on, and she started into the carpet next to them. Richie wanted to argue, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to make himself angry, or make her angry. He loved her. But what was to happen now, when his heart and body were torn between two people he loves the most? They were both silent for a long time, the tension in the silence growing bigger and huffing and puffing like an angry dragon about to spit flames from its belly.

“I don’t want you to break up with me.” She said quietly, finally. Richie sighed and took her hand in his again. 

“I don’t want to, either.” He admitted, laid a kiss upon her palm and pressed it against his cheek, looking at her from the angle. She would have smiled in different circumstances, but she only saved this in her most precious memories. The look of love still apparent in his eyes, still. 

“But the choice is yours, Rich.” She said. “I love you too much, so I’ll be okay with anything you decide. I hope you can figure things out.” She felt like she was dumping everything on him, the responsibilities that their relationship gives him, the weight of his decision. “I will be glad to help you best I can. But only you can make the choice.”

Richie nodded. The choice was truly in only his fragile hands.


End file.
